


Scam

by AlexNow



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, This was a crack fic i don't know what happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 15:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexNow/pseuds/AlexNow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><span class="small">Patrick shouldn't have let himself be fooled.</span><br/><span class="small">or</span><br/><span class="small">Where Patrick sort of really hates Pete until the former accidentally falls for him. This is where the problems ensue.</span><br/>-</p><p> </p><p>  <span class="small"><br/>    <i>A/N. I've been getting complaints on how readers have expected this to be Peterick-centric. Warning: This is not. It is somehow all based on the pairing but Gabilliam plays a major part.</i><br/>  </span></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> By reading this you will probably notice I mention LOTR more than once. I am not sorry.  
> -Alex

It isn’t as if Patrick really _likes_ Pete. Quite the opposite, actually. He finds the older teenager annoying, conceited and a complete asshole. And he doesn’t hesitate to tell him this every time he gets the chance.

While rolling his eyes, Joe would say “Patrick, calm down”. Which Patrick would find stupid advice, because he _cannot_ calm down when Peter’s staring at him that way. All creepy-ish and arrogant.

“Well, Patrick, you’re not exactly the peanut butter to my jelly.”

And that’s _another_ reason why Patrick doesn’t like him. He says the most _stupid_ stuff and everyone (except, Joe, because he’s cool) _always_ laughs. As if he’s the next motherfucking Demetri Martin or some shit like that.

This, of course, fuels Pete’s self esteem.

The only reason Patrick stands in the same room as him is because Pete is Joe’s friend. Don’t ask him how (because he’s as clueless as anyone else), but he just is. Patrick likes Joe, ever since he bumped into him (quite literally) while looking through some CDs at Barnes and Nobles.

And so Patrick wants to keep Joe as a friend, because it’d be cool to have a friend for once. Being in the school band and all causes people to normally laugh at him and ignore him also. Joe doesn’t mind he hangs out with a geek, though.

Joe, being a motherfucking asshole, decides he likes Pete too and so drags Patrick with him (there’s no other way to put it) to Pete’s house to play around with his piano and bass. Patrick usually stands in a corner and glares.

He’s not jealous of Joe putting his attention to someone else, he really isn’t, but he doesn’t like Joe’s attention being focused on the stupid emo 18 year old (for obvious reasons).

Then, one day, Patrick wakes up to Pete poking his face. It isn’t the most pleasurable sensation in the world, obviously. Pete’s cautious finger is persistent and it’s until Patrick makes a warning noise from the back of his throat that Pete notices the other boy’s eyes open.

He backs away and stares.

Patrick, growing uncomfortable under his gaze, says, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know.” He responds casually. Patrick continues glaring at him because, no, he really doesn’t.

A crash is heard from downstairs and Patrick winces at the sudden noise as Pete just simply turns his head to face the doorway. Just as Patrick is wondering who the _fuck_ is in his house while his mother’s at work he hears a sharp cuss echo through the house in Joe’s tone.

“Motherfucker! This is what happens when you don’t make your own Mac ‘N Cheese!” He yells. Pete sniggers and seems pleased with himself.

“Joe let you into my house and into my _room?!_ ” Patrick hisses out, glaring at him with as much intensity as he could manage and his face turning a dangerous shade of red. Pete shrugs.

“Technically, your mom did. She was heading out when we arrived. Either way, Joe told me you keep your house keys in one of your flower pots.”

Patrick’s still fuming as he slips out of bed, ignoring Pete’s calls from behind him and heading downstairs barefoot. He vaguely hears Pete’s footsteps behind him but over the sound of the fume coming out of his ears he barely hears.

When he reaches the kitchen he sees Joe sucking on his bright red pointer finger with a plate at his feet (thankfully not broken or his mom would kill him) and Mac ‘N Cheese sprayed all around him on the white tiles. Patrick’s jaw clenches as he stares Joe down (or tries to considering Joe’s taller).

Joe seems to be seconds from yelling again until he looks up and sees it’s Patrick. Only then Joe’s mouth snaps back closed and as he looks from the yellow food up to Patrick, he looks like someone trapped between the sword and the wall.

“Uh…” Joe says intelligently. Patrick doesn’t make any move to choke him to death yet, thankfully. But Joe knows him enough to know he doesn’t have much time to run.

Behind him Pete lets out a whoop of delight and swipes the plate from the floor, using three fingers to use as a spoon and soon he is able to plaster the cheesy pasta into his plate before sucking on his fingers. Patrick gapes at him in horror because that is _not_ good in hygiene. He doesn’t complain though because,  _hello_ , Pete might get a stomachache and die. And he’s also somewhat cleaning the floor.

Meanwhile Joe is quietly trying to escape Patrick wrath (which no one who barely met him would think sweet and shy Pat would have) by tiptoeing out the kitchen, lips open but teeth closed. Joe’s eyes squeeze shut as he begs any God that’s listening that he gets out alive.

The sound of a door being yanked open startles him and he squeaks (in a _manly_ sort of way, okay?) in surprise. Then Patrick appears out of nowhere and shoves a mop in his direction, eyes narrowed and challenging.

“Clean the fuck up. I want it as spotless as it was before.”

“Hey! Where are you going?” Pete yells while Patrick is climbing the wooden stairs again. Patrick freezes and turns around.

“I’m going to sleep. Since I didn’t get to sleep properly.” He says the last part accusingly and Pete snorts.

“Sorry, sleeping beauty. Go get your night’s sleep and I’ll make sure to be your charming prince to wake you up.”

Patrick closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and opens his eyes once for to continue his journey to a comfy bed. There’s a different between Patrick being in Pete’s house, and Pete being in Patrick’s house. And Patrick will not tolerate an asshole anywhere near him.

In the meantime Pete’s staring at the remaining stairs where Patrick was. Pete doesn’t like Patrick (does anyone?) because Patrick is an annoying sophomore who thinks he’s as artsy as he can be. But _damn_. Pete stares agape because he’s never seen Patrick with so much contained temper. And Patrick with contained temper is motherfucking _hot_. Even Pete wouldn’t mind being in bed with him.

Joe is staring at Pete’s figure standing like an idiot in front of the wooden old stairs, and as Joe keeps on moving the wooden stick from one side to the other, he sighs and wonders when the great disaster Pete always provokes will come.

**-|-|-|-**

“You and Pete need to get along.”

Patrick nearly spits out his coffee because that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s heard in his whole motherfucking life. Even _more_ absurd then when Pete excitedly enlightened Joe about jumping off the roof of his house with an umbrella in hand amid his brother.

“And _you_ need to get your own life but we both know that isn’t happening any time soon.” Patrick mutters in response, taking a cautious sip of his Starbucks once again. He’s eyeing Joe warily and Joe is staring back, eyebrow raised and waiting.

“Technically _you’re_ the one that needs a life, Pat. You need more friends. And as long as that isn’t happening you need to get along with mine.” Joe’s voice is demanding and Patrick sighs.

“There isn’t _any_ way I could get along with Wentz.”

“If you tried.”

“It’s not as if I _hated_ him the first time I met him for no reason. He’s an asshole.”

Joe rolls his eyes and laughs, swings an arm around Patrick’s shoulders and it’s until then he notices Joe had called him friendless. In theory he _is_ but it doesn’t mean he’s going to _accept_ it in front of Joseph.

“I’ve got friends!” Patrick finally replies, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip tucked out in a pout. Joe hums distractively.

“Yeah? Name three, not counting me.”

Patrick’s mouth closes shut and he bites the inside of his cheek while he thinks. His eyes are far away as he tries his best to think, and ignores that they are standing in the middle of the park. Joe gives him time because he knows it’ll take Patrick approximately thirty minutes. To his surprise, Patrick talks exactly seven minutes later.

“Brendon Urie, Gerard Way and William Beckett.” Patrick responds with confidence. Joe doesn’t stop walking as they stumble through the bushes of the town’s park. He pulls out a lollipop in a pink wrapper and carefully begins to take the foil off; since the last time Joe did this the candy went flying across the school to hit Jon Walker on the head. Spencer Smith was pissed off after that (causing Jon to try and reassure his blue-eyed boyfriend he is okay).

“It doesn’t count if Brendon talks to everyone just because and if he’s the only one talking in the conversation. Just because Gerard was your partner for Art class doesn’t mean he all of the sudden going to stop being an antisocial artsy kid and talk to you. And William Beckett just wanted a free blowjob.”

Patrick’s cheeks burn. And it isn’t too soon when he feels the tip of his ears burn as well. Joe ignores Patrick’s reaction as he throws the wrapper into the trash can and begins sucking on the sweet goodness of a sour apple lollipop.

“Anyone more?” Joe asks, because he is an _asshole._ As big of an asshole as Pete.

At Patrick’s silence Joe smiles happily, “Okay! It’s settled. You’re coming to the Trohman-Wentz sleepover on Friday after school.”

Patrick groans and leans his head back to face the blue sky because he _really fucking hates Joe at the moment._

**-|-|-|-**

After school Patrick’s walking towards his shitty car (avoiding the jocks -and at the same time the bruises as usual-) when he sees a ball of brown curly hair leaning on his car. He smiles only a bit and walks faster as to not make Joe impatient (because, come one, the dude’s already putting his awesome reputation as an eighteen year old senior by _talking_ to itty bitty sixteen year old Patrick) when he sees yet _another_ figure on the hood of his car, leaning on the windshield, arms behind head and sunglasses on.

Patrick feels everyone’s stares on him as he walks even faster towards his embarrassing old car and turns his face down, eyes boring into the ground. As he passes the people standing around with widened eyes he tries not to look up, which isn’t hard at all. He’s always had a problem with looking people in the eye.

_“Oh god. Joe is still talking to him? I thought he’d like, get bored of Paul by now.”_

_“What the fuck is Joe **doing** there? Planning to finally give his first punch?” _

_“Wait, wait, Gabe. They’re **friends**?” _

_“No, dude. Fuck. Is that **Pete Wentz**?! Fuck. What?” _

_“What the hell does Pete want with the band nerd?”_

_“Pete Wentz on the nerd’s car? Damn. He’s getting too fucking desperate for new people to fuck.”_

As Patrick makes his way to his car he feels his cheeks burn all the way to the tip of his ears. Because, yes, that is Joe Trohman (the typical dude everyone likes) and Pete Wentz (the asshole everyone wants to talk to) standing (or lying) by (on) his car. No, Patrick’s name is _not_ Paul. And no, Patrick does not pay them to be there or… fuck them. That’d be disgusting. And Pete? More than repulsive.

“Whatup, Stump!” Joe yells in greeting, a bright beam of white teeth spread across his lips. Patrick mumbles an incoherent response and moves to the other side of the car to slip into the driver’s seat. Joe follows his moves and goes for the passenger’s seat, already knowing.

Just as Patrick’s about to sit on the burning leather (because he was late to school today and couldn’t win a spot under the nice shade of the big oak tree) that the lovely sun has set for him, he remembers something important (or not important at all, really).

“Get off the fucking hood if you don’t want me to purposely slam you into a tree.” Patrick mumbles. Pete grins as he jumps to his feet. As he’s next to Patrick his wraps an arm around his shoulders and squeezes.

“Well,” Pete whispers into Patrick’s ear, “I wouldn’t really mind _that_.” Patrick shoves Pete off him and glares before angrily slipping into the driver’s seat and vigorously slamming the door after him with burning cheeks. What the fuck is wrong with Pete that makes him think he can say those words to Patrick? And in that fucking _tone._

It is until Patrick hears a third slam of a door that he realizes Pete’s in the seat behind his. In the review mirror he sees Pete’s wide brown eyes staring back, sunglasses obviously taken off.

“What? You don’t have you own fucking car?” Patrick snaps, glowering in response to his stare and trying his best not to cower down and look away.

“My mom brought me in the morning. My car turned into a piece of shit, even worse than yours, and totally turned me down.” He replies, and isn’t even mortified at the thought of admitting his _mother_ brought him. Patrick ignores the comment about his car.

“Besides,” Pete continues thoughtfully, “I thought it’d be totally better if I came with you. You may not be the mac to my cheese but I wouldn’t pass to a whole day accompanied by you.”

_Now_ Patrick’s humiliated. Besides the fact that everyone in the whole fucking _school_ is still staring him down (and the worst is that they don’t try to hide it) while he’s in his car, jaws agape and eyes the size of saucers. Did Pete just say fucking pass a whole day with him? Honestly, Patrick’s worried someone drugged Pete or shit. But only because the first person everyone would suspect on is Patrick Martin Stump himself.

The worst part? Joe doesn’t even make a remark.

**-|-|-|-**

After a day full of Lord Of The Rings, Star Wars and Matrix followed by _too much_ popcorn and coffee, Patrick’s ready to go home. It was cool meeting Mrs. Trohman once again but having Pete eat every motherfucking cookie she’d offer them is more annoying than anyone would think.

“Pete, you’re going to get a stomachache.” Joe had warned over five times.

“I never get tummy aches.” Pete always responds, mouth constantly full of chocolate chip dough. This is always Patrick’s cue to sigh and shake his head.

Here’s a surprise, though. By the seventh time this has happened, Patrick’s seventh sigh had been interrupted by a chocolate filled kiss on the cheek. Patrick, too shocked to react instantly, had frozen up and punched Pete a second too late.

Pete already had his everlasting grin on his face and so Patrick took this moment to glare at him at punch him harder on his stomach. Pete, after making an _‘oof!’,_ noise had just coughed a bit and shrugged it off, turning back to the large television where Pippin and Merry ran through the forest away from danger.

When Patrick stared at Joe from the corner of his eye (expecting jokes and teasing) he noticed Joe staring straight, completely engulfed in the movie. Patrick has never liked sitting in the middle of anything (the classroom, dinner table, couch –like in this case-) but he found it in support of his current study of Joe’s all-knowing behavior and constant glances. On his other side, Pete was already asleep. Curled up into himself and lips parted. Looking like anything but the little piece of shit he really is.

Patrick narrows his eyes and watches Pete’s old t-shirt striding up. It reveals a strip of exposed skin and as he notices a bruise already forming under his belly button aside of his hip, he smiles in delight.

**-|-|-|-**

“Wake up, lovebirds. The pizza’s going to get cold.“ Joe’s voice says _right_ next to Patrick’s ear. The other boy jolts into consciousness and blinks a couple times before taking his surroundings. As he remembers where he is he stares lazily back into Joe’s blue eyes. Patrick rubs his eyes with his fists and yawns. As he moves to get up he finds something holding him down. And, fuck, it _moved._ Barely a twitch but it _did._

He yanks the blanket off him after he realizes he’s still on the couch (because Joe is still an asshole and didn’t invite him to stay to sleep in his college brother’s old bed like last time) and hears a whine. When he turns around he finds the arm that’s still around his waist belonging to Pete. The same Pete who just _can’t_ find it in himself to leave Patrick the fuck alone.

Once Patrick brutally tosses Pete away, Pete complains after he hits the carpeted floor. His face presses against the red and makes his words muffled. He doesn’t make a move to get up, just tugs on the blue blanket until it’s free and covers him once more.

At Joe’s raised eyebrow Patrick flips him off and moves to the kitchen for the morning pizza.

**-|-|-|-**

As it turns out, Patrick’s aunt comes to visit. Well, she’s not _really_ his aunt but she’s known him ever since he was born. Auntie Rose has been best friends with Patrick’s mother since they were in high school. They never lost contact and Mrs. Stump is always excited when Aunt Rose says she’s coming for a visit.

Patrick loves her like family, practically, because she’s calm and laid back, buys him smoothies and videogames when his own mother refuses to.

_“It’ll be our own little secret.”_

The only bad thing about her visits is the fact that Auntie Rose’s visits equal babysitting. Little Austin’s awesome and all but Patrick misses sleeping during those times. That little boy has much more energy than any other four year old should have.

So when his Aunt and his mother go to the mall and leave Patrick in charge of Austin, he sighs and grudgingly nods his head. Rose smiles and ruffles his hair, her own long orange hair curling around her shoulders.

“Cheer up, Patrick. Austin only needs to be fed six times a day, including snacks, and must be walked twice.” Her smile contains an inside joke and Patrick rolls his eyes, but with a smile of his own.

**-|-|-|-**

Patrick’s rubbing his eyes as he clutches a tiny hand to his right side. Austin’s skipping with a huge grin on his face and his eyes are wide as he takes his surroundings. As they near Coldstone he begins yelling and pointing towards it, pout obvious on his pink lips and puppy eyes full power.

Patrick grumbles because he’s never been able to say no to the puppy-eyes card. As Austin yells in delight, Patrick’s lips twitch upwards and he rubs the back of Austin’s neck as small arms wrap around his leg.

**-|-|-|-**

“Cookie dough—wait, no! Fudge chocolate!” As Patrick opens his mouth to confirm the order to the awaiting Brendon Urie in the uniform, Austin yells once again, making the other customers turn towards them with annoyed scowls. Patrick ignores them and Austin doesn’t notice.

“NO. Patty, I want mint chocolate chip better!”

Brendon grins and seems awed by Austin’s vibrating form, Austin’s green eyes wide on the counter full of toppings behind the glass window.

“I know! How about a huge cone bucket with cookie dough fudge chocolate-y mint!” Brendon replies with the same amount of enthusiasm as Austin’s grin seems to send. Patrick sighs as Austin’s pleading eyes turn to him and he nods.

“Alright,” Patrick replies, “But just this once.”

Austin’s gleeful squeal sounds all around the parlor and his jumps up and down. Brendon grins at him and starts making Austin’s cavity-filled treat. Patrick is seriously the best older not-blood-related cousin _ever._

**-|-|-|-**

“And I learned how to make bumpy paint!” Austin continues into his rant.

Brendon’s cheerful ‘Have a good day, Patrick! And try not to let your ice-cream melt, Austin!’ fades away and Austin waves back and yells ‘Bye!’ while Patrick sends Brendon a quick smile. Now, though, Austin’s back into telling Patrick all about the wonderful world Austin barely discovered called _school._

Patrick wonders how Austin can make it seem so fun. And, oh yeah, Austin’s in _kindergarten._

“Yeah?” Patrick asks between the licks he gives to his blue bubblegum ice-cream, “And how’s that?”

“ _Well_ ,” Austin starts slowly, as if testing that Patrick’s listening, “ _First_ you have to get a bowl of paint. Any color paint you want! _Then_ you grab flour and mix it in. You have to mix it good, though. Or else balls of flour will appear and ruin your painting.” Austin wrinkles his nose in disgust, as if he experienced it firsthand.

Just as Patrick’s about to respond Austin’s eyes lighten up seeing something past Patrick’s form, his attention already moved on. Patrick narrows his eyes on the bright boy at his feet and Austin giggles.

“The swings, Patty! I wanna go on the swings!”

Patrick slowly turns around, hoping it isn’t what he thinks it is, but sure enough there behind him is the huge city park playground. As he groans, Austin is already pulling on his hand.

“C ‘mon, Trick! Or someone else is going to win ‘em!” He shouts again and keeps pointing at the awaiting traps of death, slowly swinging with the bypassing wind.

There are lots of kids on the playground already, but most of them are on the slides and the monkey bars. Almost no one paying attention to the lonely swings. Huh. When Patrick was a kid he remembers kids got hurt for fighting just to get the red one.

“Uh, no thanks. You go and have fun. I‘ll just--” Patrick frantically looks around for somewhere to be and where he could watch Austin from a safe distance, “--sit right here and watch you play. Go, uh-- make friends.” Austin doesn’t seem annoyed my this and instead grins, nods eagerly.

“Okay! And if you get bored--” Austin’s expression suddenly turns dangerously serious, “Tell me and we‘ll do something fun.”

Patrick rubs the back of his neck and slowly nods, can’t even look at the kid in the eyes. Austin’s still staring at him though, and waiting for confirmation so he could go play in peace and, oh shit. Isn’t it supposed to be _Patrick_ taking care of Austin and making sure he feels comfortable?

“Yeah. Right.” He responds finally. Austin’s grin immediately appears once more and without another word he whirls around and stumbles a couple times to get to the games in the sand box. Patrick grimaces as a little girl slips off the edge of the slide ( _somehow_ ) and falls from a large distance, gravity forcing her to hit the woodchips below quite harshly because, yes, Patrick knows that pain fairly well.

Patrick ends up listening to his IPod while he waits for Austin to come back to him to tell Patrick he’s bored (because that seems most likely to happen then getting a call from his mother and Aunt Rose, because they take _days_ shopping, literally sleeping on the floors just to get up early in front of their favorite shop to buy a shitload of things before other women). He listens to his favorite bands to a light volume, though. Just in case Austin gives him a call of help.

About three hours have passed by and it’s already five 0’ clock, causing Patrick to rub his eyes sleepily as he forces his eyelids to stay open. It’s not as easy as it seems. A while ago a guy around his age, probably a year younger, had plopped next to Patrick. The guy didn’t even glance at him, just stared at the play area, eyes trailing over all the kids. Particularly one small girl which had punched a boy square on the nose, causing the dude to yell, “Alisha! Play cool!”.

Guessing over the fact that Alisha looks very much like the guy, Patrick guesses they are siblings. He’d say maybe even father and daughter (if that‘s the case) but the small girl has only the guy’s facial features, no one’s else’s. In a more feminine way, of course, not that there’s a big difference with the guy’s. The dude’s wearing a newsboy hat and a _scarf_ for god’s sake.

(Patrick should stop overanalyzing everything. Jesus Christ, he‘s _comparing_ the complete stranger sitting next to him with the girl he came with. And Patrick‘s pretty sure he‘s creeping the guy out with the calculating looks he‘s giving him).

At one point Patrick starts sending Joe random texts, throughout his adventure at boredom. Some along with the lines of _‘Austin’s running around the place yelling around the world ending or something. Think he got that from the movie I was watching yesterday night’_ and _‘I’m suffering. I need food’_.

Then Patrick looks up from Joe’s pathetic response of _‘ok tell hm I said hi. make your own goddamn food stumph’_ (which is _not_ _helping at all_ ) and Austin disappears. Literally. It’s not as if Patrick _forgot_ about him and stopping looking for him. Austin must be around here _somewhere_. The Earth can’t just gobble him up. Patrick’s been waiting (hoping) for that to happen to him for over four years now and it still doesn’t happen. There lies the proof.

He’s on his feet all of the sudden, his hand over his eyes shielding them from the sun. Now the guy’s staring at him bewildered and not saying anything, just staring.

“Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.” Patrick mutters over and over again.

“Lose your kid?” A voice says out of nowhere. Patrick blinks and turns his head, seeing the guy who is actually younger than him towering over him (for fuck‘s sake, Patrick isn‘t _that_ short).

“Yeah. Austin-- he was just there, and then he wasn‘t and _fuck._ His mom‘s gonna kill me.” Patrick is trying to keep his calm, he really is but just thinking about Aunt Rose’s and his mother’s wrath _combined_ makes him more than a bit tense.

“Wasn‘t he the one jumping on and off the swings yelling about zombies eating your brains out or some shit like that?” He asks. Patrick nods anxiously.

“Yeah, you seen him?” The guy shrugs. “I think I saw him crying somewhere behind the slides.”

Patrick blinks again, more rapidly this time and stares at him, awaiting. The guys stares back and doesn’t say anything more, just stares back. His indifference is obvious.

“Mind showing me where?” Patrick asks hopefully, eyes wide. The guys shrugs and flips the end of his scarf back, over his neck. He doesn’t seem to worry over his little sister, and Patrick (judging by the way she bullied a boy older than her) knows it’s because she can handle herself. He decides Alisha gets her attitude from her older brother.

“Sure,” As they walk around the kids running around and having a sandball fight or something like that he suddenly sticks out his hand, “I‘m Ryan.”

Patrick takes it and awkwardly moves it up and down, not used to such formal introductions, “Patrick.”

Ryan nods and they keep on walking. They don’t comment on anything else and it’s not a really uneasy silence, but they are just focused on looking for the orange-haired ball of energy. When they finally reach the other side of the kid jungle, there’s no Austin in sight and Patrick begins to hyperventilate.

“Oh god, what if a rapist came through and took him away? What if he‘s already dead? What if he just got kidnapped and drugged? Oh no, _what if my mom and aunt came by and saw him alone_ ,” Patrick groans and doesn’t really think much when he drops his forehead onto Ryan’s shoulder, “I‘m in it for _sure_.”

Ryan raises an eyebrow and tries not to show surprise at seeing Patrick so comfortable near him. After all, the only people who really talk to him at school are Brendon and Spencer. But right now Brendon’s working and Spencer’s at his boyfriend’s house and so of _course_ Ryan would go running to his _five year old **sister**_ for company.

“Chill out. I‘m sure he‘s just running on and off the games. Or on loose tormenting other kids around here or something. We‘ll find him, stop bawling and keep on walking.” Ryan says while rolling his eyes. Patrick lifts his head up and stares at him because, actually that’s the most motivating words anyone has ever told him.

“Right,” Patrick finally says, “It‘s just…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence because, what’s there to say? Ryan nods and turns around, looks over his shoulder to Patrick and inclines his head towards his direction, indicating Patrick to follow him. Patrick nods and they walk around the park, calling a couple times “Austin!” and at one point Ryan gets irritated at yells “Alright, kid! Come out before you give Patrick here a motherfucking heart attack! I‘m not trained for this shit!”.

That’s when they hear it.

“So, who‘s you said you came with?” A soft voice asks, barely over a whisper. A sniff comes after and both Patrick and Ryan freeze, awaiting the response from behind them. None of them turn around, just wait one aside the other.

“Twick.” Austin’s small vulnerable voice responds. It’s obviously he’s been crying, for who knows what reason. It seems something more than just Austin being scared that he can't find Patrick.

Patrick doesn’t hesitate to whirl around now, practically running to Austin and taking him into his arms. Austin’s arms immediately go around Patrick’s neck and he buries his face into Patrick’s shirt but Patrick doesn’t even care that he’s getting his favorite band t-shirt covered in snot.

“Fuck, thank you so much. I don‘t know what would have happened if--” Patrick’s words die on his lips when he looks up to thank the person who practically saved Austin’s life profusely. The person blinks a couple time and his eyebrows furrow. Patrick doesn’t even bother to look confused though, even though he sure is.

“Oh. What the fuck are you _doing_ here?” Patrick snaps, hand still patting Austin’s back and not caring that his jeans are going to get dirty for being on the ground, one knee touching the dirty pavement and the other being occupied by the small boy.

“Well, I thought you were going to keep thanking me.” Pete says haughtily, looking down at Patrick now looking anything but confused. Patrick narrows his eyes and grabs Austin to bring him up to the air with him.

“What the hell did you do to him?” Patrick counters. Pete rolls his eyes.

“I _saved_ him. He fell off the third floor of the playground and kept on yelling your name. I had no idea it was you. He just kept on yelling ‘Patty’. Could have been a woman for all I care. When no one came to his rescue I went to see what went wrong.” Pete finishes with a shrug. Patrick’s eyes don’t do anything but glare at him. A slurping noise catches his attention and he looks over his shoulder to see Austin licking a huge sundae on a huge cone filled with millions of candies and ice cream flavors.

“You bought him one of _those_?!” Patrick says, his voice raising at the end of his sentence and seeming bewildered. Those things cost like, twenty-five dollars. Pete shrugs.

“I asked him if he wanted an ice cream and he said yes. I let him choose what he wanted on it.”

“He already had an ice cream.” Patrick complains. Pete rolls his eyes.

“Well then, he wanted _another_ one.” Patrick opens his mouth to reply with some comeback totally awesome and that would make Pete _shut his mouth for once_ when a voice, quiet and forgotten, beat him to it, seeming unsure.

“Uh, yeah. Patrick, I think it‘s time I go,” Ryan starts, pulling his hat further down to cover his eyes, “Um, it‘s nice you found Austin and all but I must get going to find Alisha before she kills someone else.”

Patrick turns around but before he could properly face Ryan to thank him one and another time Austin is launching himself (full force of his tiny short legs) into Ryan’s arms. Ryan barely is able to catch him, but when he does Austin’s grin is _right_ in front of his eyes, ice cream to one side and not one drop fallen to the ground.

“Alisha? Can she come play with me at Pat‘s house, please? Please, please, please, please, please, ple--”

“Uh, Patrick?” Ryan says, uncertain and holding Austin out. Patrick holds Austin’s waist and tries to pull him back, but his little white arms and already gripping the end of Ryan’s scarf and _won’t let go._ And if Patrick pulls to hard, he’s going to choke Ryan to death, but he can’t have Austin literally hanging off him either.

“Austin…” Patrick says, voice trailing off.

“Please, please, please, please, please, please--”

Patrick, knowing the perfect solution for all of this, sighs and turns to Ryan to face him. Tired of all this shit going on and most of it being thanks to his little non-blood-related cousin.

“Can she?” He asks. Ryan blinks.

“Huh?”

“Your sister, can she come over and play with Austin? I‘ve got a couple of ideas of what they could do.” Patrick says, shrugs and when Austin finally lets go he stands at Ryan’s feet and uses those huge puppy eyes and pouts. Yeah, Ryan’s not getting out of this one.

“Yeah, sure,” He mutters, then looks up at Patrick, “Do I leave her with you and you walk back to your house so I could pick her up in an hour or two or you got a better idea?”

“You could come over as well too, you know. My mom‘s not around and I could order pizza.”

Ryan’s lips twitch upwards and he shrugs. “Yeah, sure. Let me go get Alisha. I‘m sure she‘ll be eager to have some time with her friend.”

Patrick nods and smiles, grabs Austin and hauls him up to his arms (because if he doesn‘t Austin might as well run away yelling about the undead conquering the world again). Ryan indicates him with his hand for them to return to the playground and begins walking, Patrick at a faster pace to catch up.

“I don‘t mind coming along.” A voice comes from behind them. Patrick freezes and Ryan stops walking as well, turning to him in confusion. Austin, though, cheers and beckons him to walk with them.

“Oh, no,” Patrick finally says, turns and glares at Pete, “Fuck no. You are _not_ coming to my house again. No. No. _No._ ” Apparently this is when Austin decides to throw another fit, stomping his foot into the air (considering he‘s still in Patrick‘s arms). “No! I want Petey to come along too!” He yells, eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip jutted out and arms crossed. Patrick turns to him, still eyes narrowed.

“No, Austin. He is not coming along.” Patrick responds, as stern as he can. He still can’t believe he’s arguing with a _four year old._ Meanwhile, Ryan’s shifting his eyes from Patrick to Pete to Austin and raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, Austin, c‘mon. You could have fun with Alisha. You don‘t want to make Patrick here mad. After all, it _is_ his house.” He says. Austin turns to him, puppy eyes on again and looking at a verge of tears.

“B-But Petey Bought me ‘e ice cween.” He mumbles, eyes bright with droplets threatening to fall. Patrick groans because Austin is so motherfucking manipulative that it hurts. Goddamn. How he could have learned those moves at that age, who the fuck knows.

“Well look at that,” Pete says while laughing, “Patrick‘s got a soft spot for small kids.”

Patrick rolls his eyes and flashes him the middle finger while Austin goes into Ryan’s arms. Ryan struggles with the extra weight and grimaces when Austin invades his personal bubble by grinning at him from an inch away.

“Let‘s go find Alisha.” Ryan mutters.

**-|-|-|-**

“I don‘t have much movies,” Patrick says when they enter the house, dodging the two kids who immediately run past through his legs through the glass doors and to the backyard, “But the cabinet‘s below. Pick a movie.”

Ryan nods and says a quick thank you before kneeling in front of the cabinet, Patrick disappearing into the kitchen doors to make some popcorn and bring some drinks. Ryan sees someone from the corner of his eye sit right next to him but he doesn’t shift his eyes. Once a movie title catches his name he makes a move to wiggle it out of the stack but then, “You have a horrible taste in movies.”

Ryan looks up in confusion and sees Pete with his head angled closer and staring in the cabinet to where Ryan’s long slender fingers still graze the plastic. Ryan glances back to the movies, and instead moves to handle _Lord Of The Rings: Fellowship Of The Ring._

“Even worse.”

He gets Star Trek instead, awaiting Pete’s response and Pete snorts, “I don‘t even know why Patrick let you choose if you‘re going to choose the worse movies known to man.”

Ryan blinks and frowns. “These _are_ his movies, if you haven‘t noticed.”

“Well, I‘m not fucking blind, flowerboy!” Pete snaps and glares, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. This time Ryan glares back, because he doesn’t let anyone talk to him like a piece of shit but Spencer. And even Spencer fucking Smith knows his limits.

“Well then, I don‘t know why Patrick let you come if you were going to act like a complete asshole.” He retorts with as much volume as Pete. Whoever the fuck Pete thinks he is, Ryan does not know, but just because he’s a Wentz (one of the richest family in the state) and the guy everyone wants to sleep with doesn’t mean he’s important in the Stump household. After all, it’s obvious Patrick doesn’t like Pete as much as Ryan.

“I‘m always welcome here, _thank you,_ ” Pete huffs and keeps his head high, “And who the fuck are _you_ to be in this house? Barely met Patrick, didn‘t you?”

Ryan narrows his eyes further, but doesn’t let that get to him. He has no fucking idea why Pete seems to be desperate to get in a fight with him but Ryan’s not letting him win. Even though no one will ever win Jon on patience Ryan tries his best and breaths a couple times through his mouth.

“Ryan.” He mutters finally, deciding to go back to the movies before Patrick comes back. Pete suddenly throws him back, away from the movies, and Ryan lands on the hard carpet. He flinches at the pain it caused on the back of his head.

“Then I might as well say, _Ryan,_ fuck off and stop acting like you are. Take you little sister with you.” Pete sneers in his face, in his hands and leaning in. Ryan carefully moves his head and looks out the glass door where Alisha as giggling as Austin pretends to be a dinosaur.

He looks back and Pete is still in his face, “Pete! Dude, if you‘re going to be in my house without an invitation then you might as well make a use of yourself. Help me with this shit!” Patrick’s voice comes from the kitchen. Pete smirks at Ryan and gets up. As he struts into the kitchen he moves with his back faced towards Patrick. With one last glance at Ryan before turning away, he winks.

Ryan is left to wallow into his own confusion.

**-|-|-|-**

“Did you pick a movie?” Patrick asks as he ignores Pete who is noticeably shoved at his side throwing popcorn into the air and trying to catch them with his mouth. Ryan shrugs.

“You could pick, it‘s fine.” He responds. Patrick nods and doesn't ask, instead shrugs back, kneeling in front of the cabinet. Ryan glances at Pete, who is on the other side of the couch. Pete is clearly ignoring him and keeps trying his best to get the popcorn in his mouth.

“Here,” Patrick finally says, standing up with a movie in hand, “This one.” Ryan catches the name _Lord Of The Rings_ on the cover and glances at Pete. Pete grins adoringly at Patrick, showing off his straight teeth seeming happy.

“Great choice. I love that movie.” Pete says.

Ryan can’t find it in himself not to snort.

**-|-|-|-**

Patrick digs his hand into the bowl, wanting to get another handful of popcorn while never taking his eyes off the screen but only grabbing air.

Ryan had long left, taking Alisha with him after a last awkward hug (Patrick pretended not to notice the scowl Pete gave him when Ryan looked over his shoulder as he left). Austin left to bed, completely exhausted for playing princess and the dragon with his small friend and so Pete had refused to leave, telling Patrick for the fifth time “It is a very reasonable argument to say I can‘t leave until they‘ve gotten rid of the motherfucking ring. You cannot argue with that, Stump”.

And that sort of sucks because Patrick can’t fight against someone who thinks the exact same thing as himself. He reluctantly agreed and tried to not make a big deal of Pete’s head on his thighs, instead crossing his arms across his chest and trying his best not to shove Pete off or Joe will get tired of this same shit.

So he sits in the same position for eight hours now and hasn’t moved much, Pete taking the liberty to fool with the pillows (throwing them in the air and hitting himself with them as gravity forces the pillows to fall on Pete‘s face) while watching. Patrick really tries his best to ignore him, eating popcorn and making noises of protest at seeing the brown curly haired hobbit doubt in the redhead.

Now, though, Patrick has no popcorn.

“I have no popcorn.” He finally announces. Pete turns his head so his nose is buried in Patrick’s lower part of the shirt and he frowns.

“There‘s no more?” He asks.

Patrick shrugs and moves his eyes back to the movie, “There‘s one pack left in the cabinet. I don‘t feel like getting up, so now I have no popcorn.”

Pete’s eyes lighten up and a small grin grows bigger on his lips and he jumps on his feet. Patrick blinks and leans back, surely waiting for Pete to just blow the first punch. Pete just grins at him for a moment though and Patrick fiddles with his hat for a minute until--

“I‘ll do it!” And, well, there he goes.

**-|-|-|-**

“It wouldn‘t heat up fast enough!”

“It‘s no excuse for this disaster, Pete.”

“I was just trying to fucking have the popcorn ready before we died of starvation.”

“I think I could have survived an extra two minutes of waiting.”

“You‘re not sure. You could have started eating your own organs.”

“That‘s just repulsive.”

Pete frowns and forcefully leans down again to grab more of the popcorn now decorating the whole kitchen while Patrick continues to face his back towards him. Pete glares at the back of his head and throws more of the burn corn in the large bowl, mumbling to himself all the way.

Finally, he sighs.

“I‘m sorry, okay? I just thought it‘d be easier. If you want I‘ll buy you a new modern microwave, so your mom won‘t get mad at you.”

Patrick freezes, Pete can see his spine in his back straighten up and he doesn’t more for a long moment. Then Patrick coolly stands up and throws the crumbs he caught into the trash can. Then he turns to Pete and shakes his head slowly.

“Yeah, okay. Don‘t worry. No big deal. You almost killed us but you didn‘t, _that‘s_ something.” Patrick mutters. Pete looks for any sign of false alarm in his eyes, and finding none he smiles softly.

And maybe, just maybe, Patrick smiles back.

**-|-|-|-**

“It seems you‘ve gotten more of Pete‘s attention lately.” Joe mentions casually one day when they are propped on the roof of Joe’s house. Joe manages to catch his attention again automatically, Patrick immediately turning his head away from grabbing the tree’s leaves.

“What do you mean?” He asks, eyes narrows and daring Joe to say a single word more. Anything. Joe isn’t intimidated by Patrick, though. Not in this situation. He just finds in amusing the way Patrick instantly turns at the mention of Pete’s name.

“Oh, you know, a lot of touchy hugs and implied friendship.” Joe continues staring off up into the sky and not turning to see Patrick. Patrick exaggeratedly rolls his eyes.

“Alright, first you‘re acting like an asshole over the fact that we don‘t get along with and now you don‘t like that I‘m finally not yelling at Pete anymore?!” Patrick raises his voice and glares at Joe, and he won’t admit he also kind of pouts at Joe, upset. It’s Joe’s turn to roll his eyes.

“It’s not that I don‘t like it, but I‘m just confused on what changed it in a matter of-- what? Three weeks?”

Patrick faces away and shrugs, his back now in Joe’s direction. He doesn’t dare use words, but instead watches as the light from under him, the light of his parents’ room, turns off. As soon as he knows his parents aren’t wondering where he is he continues swinging his legs forward and back while yanking more leaves from the tree aside of him.

“Well? Was is Pete‘s charm? His total sexy superpower he keeps claiming he has? Maybe, huh? Or maybe he made you cake. You love cake.” Joe continues ranting, not caring if Patrick is listening or not.

Patrick _pretends_ not to, instead finding the green in his palm absolutely fascinating. Then Joe finally looks in Patrick’s direction and tilts his whole body to try and see Patrick’s face. Joe can’t lean in too much or he’ll fall off a two story house (and he‘s not sure if his bones are made of gold but he rather not test his luck) but he manages to see maybe a fourth of Patrick’s face. What's the first thing Joe notices?

_“Holy fuck.”_ Joe says rather loudly. Patrick tenses but doesn’t dare turn around.

“Shit, shit, shit. _Jesus Christ._ Fuck, no.” Joe says louder this time. Patrick’s cheeks turn even redder, this time spreading throughout his whole face. He tries to hide himself with his hat, but considering he’s not wearing his normal snapback and had decided to try out a fedora there’s not much he can cover.

“You _like_ Pete. But, _like like_ Pete?” Joe practically shouts, eyes wide and jaw slack. Patrick rapidly turns his head around and glares at him with as much annoyance as he can muster. His cheeks have gone into a tender pink color but even in only the moon’s light you can clearly notice it.

“Shut the fuck up, Joe!” Patrick whispers harshly, leaning in and punching Joe’s arm, “You might wake my parents up and _no._ I don‘t like Pete. Thank-you-very-much.” He snaps.

Joe hums and nods, disbelieving and obviously only trying to humor Patrick. “ _Right._ Only like a friend. Of course.”

Patrick doesn’t have the energy to argue with Joe’s sarcasm.

**-|-|-|-**

By the time Aunt Rose is finally leaving, Pete's watching television on Patrick's couch. Austin's crying and even Patrick is going to miss the little red-head quite a lot. Once hearing goodbyes in the Stump house in voices of strangers Pete stands up to investigate. He exits the house and sees Austin in a woman's arms (which could only be his mother) and Austin reaching towards Patrick, yelling "'Twick, 'Twick!" at an unbelievely volume.

Then Austin sees Pete and starts shouting and kicking, now reaching towards Pete.

"Petey, Petey! I don't want to leave!" Austin sobs as he continues fighting his mother, not wanting to get in the car. In the far back Mrs. Stump is watching it all happen with sad eyes. Patrick has no emotion on his face and is holding Austin's hand. Pete doesn't hesitate to run and take Austin out of his mother's arms, Patrick's hand slipping ut of Austin's in the process.

Aunt Rose looks up, surprised, and doesn't seem too pleased at seeing a tattooed 'young man' holding her young four year old.

"Patrick, who is _this_?" She asks, and her tone isn't exactly accusing but demanding some sort of explanation.

Patrick seems to snap out of his trance and he blinks, looking over and he seems amused at seeing Pete holding Austin tight. Half the time Patrick isn't even aware of Pete being in his house. With Patrick's flower pot key being robbed by Pete, Pete comes over whenever he feels like it and sometimes Patrick doesn't even notice.

"Oh, that's Pete."

Aunt Rose frowns and grabs Austin's waist. "Come on, Aust, we have to leave."

"NO." Austin shoots back, holding Pete's neck. Pete suddenly tugs Austin towards him, and Aunt Rose gasps at how this Pete boy  _dares_ take her son from her. But then Pete's murmuring into Austin's ear for a while and Austin's sniffing and nodding.

Pete calmly puts Austin on the ground and smiles sadly. With his head down and tears still running down his cheeks Austin walks into the car willingly, never once looking up, only to connect blemished red eyes with Patrick's green. Aunt Rose gapes.

"What did you say to him?" She asks.

Pete ignores her.

He walks over to Patrick and tugs on his arm, says something about going back to the house and watching a couple Futurama re-runs. Patrick nods and doesn't say a word, just lets Pete tug him away, holding back his own tears.

**-|-Three Days Later-|-**

“Euphoria, Patrick! I‘m going to get euphoria!” Pete yells, dramatically pressing the back of his hand against his forehead and blocking Patrick’s path. Patrick rolls his eyes.

“Do you even know what euphoria _means_?” He asks, eyebrow raised.

Pete blinks and just stands there for a moment. “No.” And then continues wailing, “I‘ll _die_ of euphoria!”

Patrick shoves him away and keeps walking with bare feet towards the living room couch. He had just woken up and, what was the first thing Patrick saw once he entered the kitchen? Pete talking and laughing with Mrs. Stump, that’s what.

As Mrs. Stump had passed a drowsy Patrick on her way to get her car keys for work she had murmured, “That Pete boy is sweet. It‘s nice to see you‘ve been making new friends”. And once she had said that did she leave? _No._ She just _had_ to add to her words, “And he‘s cute too”, and with a wink she walked away. Patrick, dazed between sleep and shock had stood there for another two minutes after his mother left until Pete practically jumped on him and wrapped his legs around Patrick’s waist. Patrick stumbled to stay on his feet but managed to catch hold of the marble counter.

Now, Pete’s dying.

“Please, I’ll _die_.” Pete yells from behind Patrick as the younger blonde walks away. It’s too early for this shit.

“Pat, you don’t want me dead, do you?”

Pete’s tone suddenly turns soft and Patrick turns around on the sofa to see Pete’s huge brown eyes staring at him from the kitchen doors and his bottom lip jutted out. Patrick sighs.

“What do you want?” He mutters. Pete’s not too bad, but having him waiting for him to wake up every Saturday and Pete also abandoning his old friends to sit with him at lunch with Joe is just getting creepy. Though, Patrick rather fucking burn alive than give in to say he likes it.

Pete grins once gaining Patrick’s attention and suddenly he’s plopping himself on Patrick’s lap as if he belongs there. Patrick blinks and doesn’t move at all, just staring as Pete leans to grab the remote control and then leans to put his head on Patrick’s shoulder.

“Nothing.” Pete admits.

**-|-|-|-**

As usual Patrick walks the halls with his head down, clutching the strap of his backpack as tightly as he could and hoping he gets to his locker before trouble ensues. Of course, Patrick’s luck not even fucking existing, it doesn’t happen. Instead Patrick’s shoved against the lockers and he doesn’t dare look up to level up, but stares at the ground. The bottom of the jersey and the sneakers are enough to know who’s the cause of this.

“What‘s up, _loser_?” Gabe sneers into Patrick’s ear. Patrick flinches but keeps staring at the bottom of his jeans. Hm. They look a bit dirty. Considering they’re too long for Patrick maybe it’s because he’s been stepping on them or--

“He‘s fucking _talking_ to you.” Another voice snaps and suddenly Patrick’s chin is being pushed up hard enough to make the back of Patrick’s head smack against the lockers. Ow. Motherfuckers. That fucking _hurt._

Then Gabe’s eyes are staring down at him and he’s holding him by his throat. _“Well?”_ Gabe asks once again. How the hell is Patrick supposed to respond when he can’t _breathe?!_

The whole hallway has now froze and everyone’s staring at them, awaiting what’s next. Wow, _thank you_ , Patrick thinks bitterly.

Then there’s someone pushing everyone away and saying, “Hey, c‘mon. Let me through.” No one protests, and Joe’s bright blue eyes connect with Patrick’s. Patrick still can’t breathe.

“So, _loser,_ how‘d you get Pete Wentz to talk to you, huh? Did you use your _fag_ powers to manipulate him, huh?” Gabe continues and then squeezes Patrick’s neck harder, “Hey! Look at me when I‘m talking to you!” He yells, “Who you looking at anyway?”

 Gabe turns around and sees Patrick’s eyes on Joe, then smirks. “What? You expect that sucking Trohman‘s dick is enough to save you from this one?”

“Gabe, let him go.” Joe says suddenly, his eyes narrowed on Gabe’s form. Gabe taps his finger on his chin with his unoccupied hand (as Patrick‘s face turns purple) and then smiles, faces Joe again.

_“No.”_ He replies, smiling in satisfaction, and how can a bully be so childish?

“What you gonna do, Jew? Why do care for the loser?” Gabe says, glaring.

“Gabe, _let him **go.**_ ” It’s another voice now, and Jon Walker emerges from the crowd of students waiting for anything to happen. For a moment Patrick’s confused on why Jon cares, until he sees Spencer Smith clutching his arm and none other than Ryan fucking Ross glaring at Gabe from Jon’s other side.

“Oh, well if it isn‘t fag number three,” Gabe says in mock surprise, “I‘m surprised you‘re even going out with the Spencer freak here. After all, after the whole _whore_ situation.”

That seems to rile things up. Fuel into the fire, you can call it. Jon now seriously seems to be preparing himself to attack while Spencer seems to be on a verge of tears. And considering Spencer never shows anyone but the bitch face, the rumor of a couple months ago on how Jon had a night with a corner slut isn’t exactly false. Spencer’s hand on Jon’s shoulder stops him though, but Jon’s fists are still tightened. They all know Jon can’t possibly win alone against Gabe and Gabe’s little helpers.

Gabe turns to Patrick, and opens his mouth to taunt him in any other way, but suddenly something is shoved down Gabe throat. Like, _literally_ shoved down his throat. And it strangely looks like a hand.

Patrick immediately falls to the ground once Gabe lets go, and gasps for air. He’s on his knees and hands, trying to get more air into his body and he vaguely hears cracking and yells, cheering someone on. But then a familiar scarf nears and skinny arms are wrapping around his waist.

“Get up,” Ryan mutters, “I‘m taking you to the nurse. There‘s bruises already forming on your neck.”

Patrick’s never been more grateful, and he blocks the sounds coming from behind him. Patrick thinks he sees blood on the white school floor.

**-|-|-|-**

“You should be fine in a while,” The nurse says with a kind smile, “Just keep holding that pack of ice and don‘t move your head.”

Patrick tries to nod but winces into the pain as he rests his head on the pillow. He opens his mouth but the nurse shakes her head, “No talking. Just rest. Ring the bell if you need anything. I‘ll go attend other foolish students.” And after rolling her eyes she walks away towards the front desk.

Patrick goes to close his eyes, since Ryan is now long gone to class after the nurse shooed him away but opens his eyes when he hears a gasp and an, “Oh my!” coming from the nurse.

Not much more later than two minutes in walks a bloody and bruised Jon Walker, Joe Trohman and Pete Wentz.

Fuck. _Pete?_

“Pete?” Patrick croaks out, then clutching his neck to try and soothe the pain out. Here is Patrick, suffering for having a bruised neck from almost dying, and yet Pete walks in and plops into the chair next to Patrick’s bed as if his bloody face, red teeth, limping foot and bruised body is absolutely nothing.

 "Nice to know you care for us, Stump." Joe says, but he's smiling and joking. Jon smiles and shrugs when Patrick gives him a questioning gaze.

"Ryan couldn't take you being bullied like that and he knew he couldn't fight, so he asked for my help." Jon replies his silent question. Patrick seems Pete tense aside of him from the corner of his eyes but when he turns he sees Pete turn his head and grin, as if not even aware his head is practically cracked into two parts.

“Don‘t worry, ‘Trick. I made sure they got what they deserved.”

**-|-|-|-**

“Mom, I‘m _fine._ Don‘t worry. No big deal.” Patrick rolls his eyes and speaks into the phone while it’s on speaker.

_“Patrick! Your whole neck is purple and green and I told you to stay home! You are absolutely not **fine!** ”_ Mrs. Stump yells. Patrick winces and Joe sniggers as he continues playing videogames with Pete at his side.

“I‘m good, mom. Joe‘s taking care of me--” Patrick hears Joe snort and hopes that his mother didn’t hear, “And it‘s not like we‘re doing anything dangerous. Just playing Mortal Kombat and shi-- stuff.”

_“Joe? Joe can barely take care of himself! You know what? I‘m going over **this** minute. You need to eat something that wouldn‘t too hard to swallow, and some ice on your bruises would do good along with--” _

The next minute the cellphone is swiped right out of Patrick’s grip and Patrick doesn’t even have time to yell for him to give it back before Pete is pressing the receiver into his ear and is shouting, “Hello, Mrs. Stump!” and Pete takes the speaker off.

Patrick groans and smacks the palm of his hand into his face. There are some exchanged, Yup!”s and enthusiastic “Uh huh!”s before Pete’s handing Patrick back his phone. Patrick immediately tries to explain his mother but is met with silence, and Patrick looks up to glare at Pete. (Somewhere in the background Joe‘s whining about having someone to play with).

“What did you do?” Patrick snaps, eyes never off the dark haired boy in front of him. Pete grins and throws himself on Joe’s bed, next to Patrick.

“Your mom isn‘t coming anymore. In fact, she‘s letting you sleep over at _my_ house.” He says. Patrick blinks and his eyes move from fury to curiosity.

“Huh?” Pete drops down and gives Patrick a sloppy kiss on the cheek before winking at him and dropping down to surprise attack Joe. Patrick doesn’t move for another five minutes before he slowly stands up and goes into the Trohmans’ kitchen to make himself a poptart.

 Then Patrick curses to himself as he realizes he didn't punch Pete this time, and is probably leading him on. Patrick decides that he will pretend he's annoyed.

That’s… sort of how it starts.

**-|-|-|-**

No big deal. The rest of the day Pete spends his time never leaving Patrick’s side, even convincing Joe to go get him a Coke because he can’t get up and leave Patrick alone, or else the blonde with most likely blow up into a million pieces. That he promised Mrs. Stump he’d take care of her son.

Somehow, Patrick’s mom had believed him. Patrick’s considering going back to his house and perform an exorcism on her, because who in their right mind thinks _Pete_ is enough to take care of him when he’s almost killed himself more times than necessary.

One day when Pete dragged Patrick to the hospital to ’take care of some things’ Patrick was not surprised when all the workers there (doctors, nurses, lady at the desk, etc.) gave him a wary hello, Pete responding with a grin and a wave. (At one point one of the nurses had stared at him and said “What did you break this time, Peter?”).

So, technically, Patrick isn’t left alone. He counts fifteen hugs and seven kisses on the cheek/forehead before it’s time to go to Patrick’s house to collect some clothes for the morning and his pajamas.

**-|-|-|-**

That night Pete and Patrick and curled up into a blanket while watching Jeepers Creepers, both of them too darn tired to laugh at the shitty ‘special effects’. Pete had felt as if he were free to wrap his arms around Patrick tense form and to lean his head on the younger boy’s shoulder.

It was until they but the second movie when Patrick calmed down and leaned onto Pete as well, both in what everyone would think is a romantic position. Not Patrick, though. Hell no. Pete just a friend, and Patrick’s just happy he doesn’t have to fight with someone every single time that person’s in the room. Therefore, this is not a romantic position. Fuck no.

Why does Patrick feel as if he’s trying to convince himself before anyone else?

And Patrick too wrapped up into his thoughts to notice what’s going on in the movie and that he had indeed said that aloud.

“What?” Patrick’s mumbles once Pete turns up to stare at him. Pete shrugs.

“Nothing.”

Patrick’s surprised Pete doesn’t even ask.

The movie goes on and before Patrick knows it the credits are rolling and Pete is now straddling him. Not too close to Patrick’s crotch but it’s still quite disturbing.

“Uhh… hi?” Patrick says, eyebrow raised and lips curled into a small nervous and confused smile.

Pete grins and leans in, whispers once he’s more than _too close_ and breath fanning Patrick’s face, “Hi.”

Patrick’s had enough of it.

“Pete, look,“ Patrick starts, eyes on Pete‘s dark own, “I‘m not sure what the hell you are doing but if you could just get the hell off me--”

Patrick doesn’t finish his sentence. Mostly because he _can’t_ finish his sentence. Something stops them from moving, blocks them and makes them press against his teeth. Something soft, and **_moving?_** And-- Holy Fuck. Those are Pete’s lips. Patrick’s eyes widen and before he knows it his own lips are moving on their own chord. First in hesitation and trying to keep up with Pete.

Pete makes a noise of delight and leans closer until his chest is pressing against Patrick’s, and Patrick doesn’t know how to react when something hard presses against his thigh, mostly because his own erection is growing painfully hard. So he lightly puts his hands on Pete’s shoulders, careful not to harm his bruises and cuts. Though Pete’s face is more purple and green than his usual tan color.

Just then Pete palms Patrick through his jeans and he moans, loud and unwillingly. But who the fuck cares? Pete’s parents aren’t home. So--

_Motherfucker._  

Pete’s parents aren’t home.

_Of **course**_ Pete would want to do this while his parents aren’t home. This is why he invited Patrick in the first place. It’s not as if Pete actually likes Patrick. What’s there to like? So Patrick puts his hands on Pete’s chest and pushes him away, making Pete fall to the ground with a loud thump.

“What the fuck!” Pete yells, and looks up to glare at Patrick, only to face a lonely brown couch.

Pete’s yell is answered with a slam of a door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William takes it in his hands to make sure Pete and Patrick get together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations, people! You have all convinced me into making this longer than I had intended! Fuck you all :D Haha. No kidding. You're awesome.

There’s something William has noticed.

You see, after taking the time to be with Gabe, who is by all means his boyfriend, he’s been forced to sit in the cafeteria to a table close to Gabe’s (but not too much to cause suspicion) by Gabe himself (“I just want to keep an eye on you, babe. You‘re a pretty sight.”). And also Gabe’s been busy lately in soccer practice, where Pete also is in, and the fact that Patrick is totally in love with Pete can’t really escape anyone’s notice.

But Pete (being, well, Pete) is completely oblivious. William likes to lean back on the bleachers and watch the whole show with amusement sparked in his eyes as he moves his eyes from Patrick to Pete, back and forth. William wouldn’t go as far as to say Pete is stupid, but for _Christ’s sake,_ even _Gabe_ noticed. And that says something huge.

Patrick’s blush, Patrick’s wandering eyes, the way Patrick fidgets with his hands in his lap as Pete wraps his arm around his shoulders in the five minutes Coach gives them a break. Patrick is obvious, but maybe not enough.

And also, Pete is in love with Patrick. He just doesn’t know it yet.

Since Patrick’s bashfulness and Pete’s obliviousness is getting them absolutely nowhere, William takes the matter in his hands. After all, he’s not William Eugene Cupid Beckett for nothing (and, okay, maybe Cupid isn‘t _really_ part of his name but it might as well be).

 

 

There’s one simple cure for the lack of affection between Pete and Patrick lately. Considering they haven’t talked in a long time William is sure something bad happened.

Or one of them did something stupid… or both. You can never know when it’s about those two. Pete’s a recipe for disaster, after all.

Well, putting measures there was -talking in past tense because of reasons- no _lack_ (bearing in mind that Pete would always give Patrick wet kisses on the other’s neck) but that’s problem. That’s stopped all of a sudden and Pete used to always claim they were ‘friendly’ kisses (and stupid, stupid Patrick would always believe him). William admits he’s only a bit frustrated.

Nevertheless, there’s still that one cure. The one that will make Pete realize just how much he loves his best friend and Patrick make the first move. That special move and the secret potion that William has up his sleeve. (Can William ask for a drum roll?)

…

Jealousy.

It has always worked for William, after all. Just a swing of his hips, a cocky smile and a slow stroke of someone else’s arm and _bam._ William’s got Travis McCoy, Adam Siska, Andy Mrotek and, finally, Gabe Saporta in line to be his next somebody. Along with another twenty guys and girls whom William never cared to remember names of.

So William’s got a plan. Sadly, this on no account means the results are always positive even if his intentions mean well. William constantly seems to cause tribulations to ensue, but this doesn’t imply that that simple fact is going to stop him.

 

 

 

There’s only a few problems William had forgotten about. See, William’s never been quite good at planning any sort of shit. Mostly because he never had to _plan_ anything. Or with details, at least. He’d just do it and the results would be great.

Not this time, _god_ no. He can’t flirt with anyone when he has a boyfriend (because, yes, even William the slut has his boundaries). And that is why William hates being so nice sometimes. Too. Fucking. _Nice._ Because he has to cross limits and take chances. Why? Just so the blonde kid with the hats from his History class gets his happily ever after.

So talking about the risk he has to take, he has to break up with Gabe. And, god, _he_ even admits it kind of hurts to think about it.

 

 

 

 “Why don‘t you just _tell_ me!” His soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend-in-a-couple-minutes says. William frowns.

“I can‘t.” He replies with as much dignity as he could manage. It’s practically the truth, though. What’s the point in a super secret mission if it isn’t secret anymore? And even if William could tell Gabe, he wouldn’t. Gabe may be sweet and a total fucking sweetheart under the whole ‘jock who bullies anyone who breathes’ façade but he’s still Gabe. And Gabe has a huge fucking mouth. William isn’t taking the risk of Gabe telling anyone and ruining it all.

“What is it!” Gabe continues to shout, and William swears he sees tears trickling at the end of his eyes at one point, “You found someone else, huh? Is that it. ANSWER ME!”

William isn’t afraid of Gabe yelling at him so violently (not even after witnessing Gabe almost fucking kill Stump last Thursday) because he knows Gabe will never hurt him. So he stands his ground.

And anyone who knows William enough should know that when he gets an idea stuck in his head, it’s impossible to talk him out of it. So, William lies.

“Yes.”

 

 

 

William is slightly trembling as he arrives to his house, where his mother is sleeping on the couch after an exhausting day at work. He’s clutching his hand tightly to his chest as the dark blood pools in his knuckle and stains his t-shirt.

The creaks of his old wooden stairs are loud but he isn’t surprised at seeing his mother just barely stir. Gradually, he steps on each step; as if afraid he’ll wake up the monsters of the night. And just as he arrives upstairs he runs to his bedroom and slams the room, before throwing himself on his bed and crying. Wait, no. Maybe crying is too much of a mellow word. He _sobs,_ yells into his pillow and screams at his life to just finish him off. Take him out of his misery.

When plotting the idea to get Patrick and Pete to finally realize they are perfect for each other he never thought _this_ would happen. He never thought it’d be _this_ hard. And he wishes he could just grab his stupid pills and kill himself. But no. He’s gone this far, and now he has to complete this mission, and now seeing what happened William’s doubting the plan all whole. But he’s not backing down now. Patrick and Pete need his help.

William’s overly aware that his hand is still spilling bright blood and soaking his shirt but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t even think twice about getting his bed covers stained a dark red. And usually William is all about being clean and presentable. But not now.

He just lets his blood spill on his once floral scented sheet, and his tears sink into the pillowcase. William doesn’t care about anything anymore. He’s just doing it on feeling pressure and responsibility. Does that make sense? He doesn’t know.

How is anyone supposed to act calm is his position? It’s until now that William realizes just how much Gabe meant for him. He’s scared. He’s never had anyone who meant more to him than a fuck buddy. The word ‘boyfriend’ always seemed to William the mean the same thing as ‘person to fuck on any smooth surface and then leave’. He just used that word to make the other person happy.

But then Gabe just _had_ to ruin William’s record of how many people he could fuck (and get fucked by) in three years by saying that simple sentence. That simple silent promise.

_“You found someone else, huh? Is that it? ANSWER ME!”_

_“…Yes.”_

_Gabe slams his fist into the wall of his bedroom and for a moment William is grateful Gabe’s parents are out for the weekend. This way they have no one to interrupt this… discussion._

_Gabe stays in that position for what seems to be minutes, maybe even hours, but the only sound in the room is Gabe’s heavy breathing. William doesn’t move or make a sound, just waits for Gabe to make the first move._

_“Why?” Gabe finally whispers, and his voice cracks, “I thought you felt the same way for me.”_

_William is conscious that there are tears running down Gabe’s cheeks and his chest clenches, makes it difficult for him to respond. Only barely can he see Gabe’s face, only the tears, and he’s glad he isn’t being forced to look in the other’s eyes. William isn’t sure if he would be able to handle it._

_“I did,” William answers slowly, measuring his words and placing them in order carefully, “But that changed. I mean, the sex was great and everything but--”_

_In that moment Gabe spins around and he glares at William with hate and mistrust swimming in his dark eyes. William stares calmly back and expects for the worst._

_“That was all it was to you? Fucking sex?!” Gabe exclaims and his fist curls around the headboard of his bed threateningly tight, “I was just a sex toy?”_

_William shrugs and stares at the most interesting floor and refuses to look into Gabe’s eyes, “Well, yeah. It‘s not as if it were a real relationship with the handholding and shit.”_

_This time William hears something actually break. There’s the slight rattling and then the crash, and when he looks up he sees Gabe scowling down at the broken lamp before kicking it. He looks up and William swears he’s never seen Gabe’s eyes so… wild. Not even while the sex and William takes a cautious step back._

_“We weren‘t a couple? This was all fucking nothing?!” Gabe screams and walks over to William, his sneakers cracking as he steps on the broken glass, then Gabe’s crying again. Only a tear or two but William takes another step back, not knowing what to do in these situations. He never had to deal with them._

_“You had no feelings for me and I had no feelings for you, Gabriel,” William says Gabe’s full name to empathize what he’s trying to say, “So, there really if there was nothing we felt then there was nothing going on between us.”_

_Gabe throws his head back laughs, almost carefree and loud, ringing and pounding into William’s ears. It’s bitter, even to William’s ears, and he doesn’t know what else to expect._

_“No? No feelings? Bill,” Gabe laughs again and when he looks back down his eyes seem mocking, “How’d you know that?”_

_“I just do. There was nothing more to expect from you.”_

_“Didn‘t you ever stop and think, Bill? The reason why I carried with all your crazy motherfucking shit that drives everyone else crazy and why I ever bothered to care and hold you while you cried and tried to punch me? Did you ever consider why I forgave you every time you pulled that bipolar act out of nowhere when you forgot to take your pills was because I love you?”_

William’s tears come in loads and he actually feels them make a small pool form before sinking slowly into the pillow, leaving a nasty wet mark behind that feel gross and just _wet_ against William’s eyelashes.

 _Love?!_ Of lust William could have dealt with but when he’s asked about love, he simply doesn’t respond. William doesn’t _know_ the definition of love, and he prefers it like that. He’s heard many things about this said _love_ and one thing he has always understood is that _love_ brings nothing but pain. William’s not sure if they meant physical or emotional, but William thinks both.

Here he is, crying his soul out and sobbing like a motherfucker while clutching his hand which is pouring blood all over the place (but that‘s sort of no one but William‘s fault because on his way back he slammed his fist into someone‘s window).

 _Well,_ He thinks, _this is love. This is the great wonder everyone talks about. This is what Gabe gives me._

Because, of course, how could he give Gabe any love back if he doesn’t know _how_?

 

 

 

Monday morning is a piece if shit, to wrap it up nicely. But, really, that’s all there is to say about _any_ Monday morning. It’s extremely exhausting. Not doing anything at all for a whole two days (except have a one night stand with one of his mom’s workers) and then you are expected to have an essay ready in one day talking about abortion and your view on it with about only a thousand and one pages.

But, _that’s_ just any Monday morning for anyone else in school. William, though, has to deal with walking all the way to school because he hates doing extra exercise (so his bicycle is out of question), he has to deal with Gabe’s constant glares, also the bullying he had not had since he wasn’t going out with Gabe (and the bruises being formed thanks to none but the great Gabe Saporta himself by being slammed against the lockers in a non-sexual way), and we must not forget the _mission._

“Hey, Patrick.” William says into Patrick’s ear in History, the period before lunch. It’s _perfect._ Patrick jumps at hearing William’s voice so near and turns his head, seeming even more startled at feeling his nose brush against William’s. Patrick’s cheeks automatically turn a dark red as he quickly turns back to his table, trying to hide his heated face. William finds him absolutely _charming_ and it’s no wonder why Pete couldn’t get his hands off him. _Couldn’t,_ talking in past tense because.

“H-Hey, William.” Patrick responds softly, so low William himself barely catches him. William grins and stands straight, no longer with his chin skimming Patrick’s shoulder sleeve.

“Would you mind that I sit next to you this period?” _Or for the next month._

Patrick’s eyes visibly widen a small fraction, but then he’s turning in his seat so his head looks over his shoulder up to William’s tall form. He doesn’t seem happy, but he doesn’t seem upset or disgusted either. Just… troubled.

“Uh, Andy--”

“Isn‘t coming to class today.” William interrupts him. But he doesn’t mention the part where he told Andy it’s time to pay the favor he owed him. Andy wasn’t very happy with skipping class but he’ll get over it. Easily Andy could have sit in William’s place, next to Adam (who _finally_ got over his crush on him), but at least for this class it’s easier Andy isn’t here at all. Patrick might ask questions.

“Oh… okay.” Patrick smiles slightly and his bangs hide his eyes from view. William doesn’t like that. He quickly plops next to Patrick and throws his bag down on the floor next to his chair, before turning to Patrick and tucking his bangs behind his ear.

This causes Patrick to turn a light pink again, and the blonde boy ducks his head. William grins and turns to him. “So, Patrick.”

Patrick tilts his head to watch William from the corner of his eyes, and his wide eyes wait for William to continue. When William just stares at him and makes no move to talk once again he finally says, “Yeah?”

William smiles. They are finally getting somewhere.

 

 

 

 “And so after we learn about the liberty of one man kind…“

Pete tunes out the boring drones of his teacher. For fuck’s sake, liberty, respect and responsibility. Same fucking thing. It makes no difference and they’ve been learning about being a good person over and over again ever since they knew how to _blink_. So why can’t they all just move on?

He slams his forehead against his empty notebook (okay, maybe filled with just a few ‘ _Pat‘_ s in colorful deformed hearts) earning a couple sleepy glances from his classmates and he _literally_ hears his stomach growl loudly. But no one stares at him, so maybe he’s just being paranoid.

He presses his nose and smudges the _a_ as he closes his eyes, and then the smell of potato chips enters his nostrils. He sighs and inhales more, his nose presses harder against the ink. Maybe it’s just the fact that he hasn’t eaten since yesterday evening but that smells terribly like chips. He slowly sticks his tongue out towards the paper. If only he could…

“Peter!”

Pete shakes awake and blinks a couple times before looking up towards where the lady (who‘s name he still hasn‘t bother to remember) is glaring at him with a ruler tapping against the palm of her free hand. Pete’s eyes follow the movement lazily.

“What?”

He half-expects for some sniggers and snorts to be thrown his way, but when he is given silence he finally takes notice of his surroundings. Which are empty desks, by all cost. Fuck. Did he fall asleep _again?_ And to think he’s been waiting for lunch to come by almost eating his notebook.

He quickly throws his stuff into his backpack and he swiftly dodges the desks in order to exit the room quickly (and buy some fucking food), and so when he opens the door and is ready to jog to the lunch line (on the other side of the school) he hears a, “Mr. Wentz. May I have a word with you?”

Which isn’t really a question, because Pete spends the next ten minutes hearing a whole lecture on ‘respecting others by not ignoring them’ and ‘you may have a problem if you keep falling asleep in class, Mr. Wentz’ while Pete daydreams about a salami sandwich as the corner of his mouth drips drool.

Not exactly the best beginning of the week there is, correct? Yeah well, Pete’s had worse.

 

 

 

“FOOD.” Pete exclaims as soon as he slams the cafeteria doors open. The girls sitting nearest to the wide doors giggle and look up at him under their plastic eyelashes and blood red lips. Pete sends them a wide grin, sending them yet into another fit of flattery.

He’s on his way to the line (which is too long for his liking and he‘s considering promising the girls at the front a date if one of them buys him lunch) when he hears some familiar laughter.

Of course, Joe isn’t alone. He never is, really. It’s impossible to walk away from his all too good attitude, and Pete’s lucky he got to Joe first before anyone else or Joe would have probably never been his friend.

When Pete passes Joe with a slight nod in greeting Joe waves in reply as the guy he’s talking to chats animatedly. Then Pete wonders why Joe’s standing the middle of the cafeteria and not on their usual table. He walks towards the lunch line and passes the table, only to find it completely empty. He turns around and can’t see Patrick _anywhere_.

Shit, he really fucked up on what… _happened_ last time, didn’t he? Pete’s 20 minutes late for lunch, and Patrick isn’t here yet? Maybe Patrick skipped? Or maybe he never really came and Pete just misses him so much he _thought_ he saw him? He doesn’t know but he hopes to see Patrick’s face soon or he might just scream. And he really doesn’t want detention now.

So he walks over to the table after having someone random chuck a sandwich at his head (with an added, “Here you go, man!” and Pete’s _pretty_ sure that he’s supposed to remember his name) where he usually sits with Patrick, Joe and any other girl who feels like rubbing against Pete to try to get his attention at lunch.

Then the doors are slamming open and two people walk in. One of them has Patrick’s blonde hair and hat (which could only mean it’s Patrick himself, and Pete finds himself sighing in relief –which isn’t a good idea at all because his mouth is still stuffed with bread, lettuce and ham-) and the other, well, Pete doesn’t know what to say.

“Looks like Patrick’s made a new friend by himself for once.” It’s Joe. And right now Pete is more than unhappy to see Joe sitting next to him, big friendly fro and everything.

“It’s _him._ ” Pete mutters in response, sandwich long forgotten even though his stomach is growling quite loudly. Pete ignores it though, in favor of glaring at the wavy-haired teenager (because the hair is enough to disapprove of someone) who’s holding the elbow of _Pete’s_ Patrick.

For fuck’s sake. Can’t William get his _own_ damn cute self-conscious asshole?

Does that make any sense?

Is Pete really arguing over this in his head at this moment?

Can’t he just shut up?

“Sorry for being late, guys. It’s just William suggested we go to the library first to check out the--”

“SHUT UP.”

Pete blinks and turns around, but no one’s looking his way. Jesus, does no one respect privacy anymore? Pete may not be the nicest guy around but c’mon, at least he doesn’t cut people off rudely. He cranes his head to one side and waits for Patrick to huff annoyingly to whoever that did such a thing.

Everyone’s staring at him, and by ‘everyone’ he means Joe, Patrick and _William_ (who might as well _leave_ ), and Pete realizes the voice didn’t come from behind him, but it came out of Pete’s same mouth.

Patrick’s stare is the one that penetrates him more, and he winces.

“Sorry.” Pete mutters and suddenly finds his sandwich absolutely endearing and worthy of taking his attention off Patrick.

“..Okay.” Patrick pronounces it so carefully; stretching out each letter and his eyes seems expectant as if waiting for Pete to explain himself.

There still isn’t any noise after besides the cheerful laughter from the tables around them so Pete risks himself a glance up from behind his bread, only to find Patrick blushing as William leans into to whisper something into the blonde’s ear, his lips touching Patrick’s ear and his playful light brown eyes checking around to make sure no one’s listening. William never glances at Pete though, who’s seething, as if he couldn’t care less if Pete noticed their closeness or not.

“Uh, Pete,” Joe seems unsure whether it’s a right moment to catch Pete’s attention, “You’re sort of squeezing the hell out of your sandwich.”

Pete pauses for a moment from his loathing sent Beckett’s way and he glances down to find that the pickles and lettuce had slithered its way out roofed in mayonnaise while the bread is covered in bland finger marks all over. He sort of feels bad for the food a moment ago he would have killed to have, but when he hears Patrick giggle he’s back to glaring at the innocent food as if it were its entire fault.

Who knew Patrick could giggle? Hell, _Pete_ didn’t, and that’s not fucking fair. He’s known Patrick for years (since Patrick was a freshman, actually) and all of the sudden William struts in, says a couple words and he can figure things (that Pete never got to) _out?!_ Life is fucking unfair and Pete isn’t taking any of it.

He ignores the yelp of protest Joe throws at him once seeing that Pete took his soda and Pete almost wants to laugh as he sees Joe’s eyes widen comically as he realizes what Pete’s about to do. But Pete doesn’t let go of the soda as he raises it as a threat and he flicks his wrist.

Then Pete doesn’t process what happens first. William’s shriek as he gets soaked in soda, Joe’s glare or Patrick screaming at Pete for wetting his ‘friend’ in sticky water. He doesn’t really care to remember which one came before the other anymore either. It all came to the same end. Patrick being pissed at Pete (with his own couple of drops of soda on his hat and shirt too) and William staring at his clammy clothes agape.

Pete smiles as William storms through the cafeteria doors to the bathrooms and thinks that maybe seeing William that humiliated (with all eyes of the school on Pete, then William, then Patrick and a couple glances to Joe who’s shaking his head disapprovingly) is worth having Patrick more distant than he already was.

Emphasize the ‘maybe’ as Pete watches Patrick shoot a disgusted look Pete’s way as he runs after William.

 

 

 

Patrick’s sneakers pad against the vacant hallways of the school as he jogs towards the doorway where he thought he saw William enter. He opens the door and finds William standing in front of the mirror while dapping his face with a wet piece of paper.

“Hey,” Patrick says softly, “I’m sorry for what happened over there. Pete usually doesn’t act like that. I don’t know what got into him. He’s just an asshole sometimes and--”

William snorts, cutting him off. He ignores the feeling he got at Patrick apologizing for Pete. It’s as if Patrick really is interested in keeping William as a friend, and William is honestly surprised. Though he doesn’t let that get to him. For all he knows Patrick might just be interested in keeping a friend he made by himself, whether it’s William or not.

“ _I’d_ say,” William responds harshly, even though he knows perfectly well it’s not Patrick’s fault (but he was to feign anger if he wants Pete to make a move on Patrick, right?), “He threw soda on me if you don’t remember.”

Patrick nibbles on his bottom lip and he honestly feels bad, staring into the ground and seeming ashamed. William looks away and continues wiping the liquid off his body.

“H-Here,” Patrick says as he approaches William. He leans forward and takes the icky piece of paper from the other’s hand, lets it fall into the trash can and he soaks another piece of paper, “I’ll help you. It’s the _least_ I can do.”

William doesn’t complain, and he lets Patrick clean him in gentle moves, being even more careful around William’s eyes.

At one point Patrick connects eyes with him, and he seems to only just notice the small distance between them. Patrick’s cheeks naturally turn a light pink and he ducks his head to clean William’s hands (Patrick’s soft own holding William’s long fingers delicately). William laughs lightly and Patrick looks back up, curious for the reason of the humor in William’s state.

Patrick’s breath fans William’s face and he blinks, also appreciating the distance. Patrick doesn’t move or seem affected by it anymore, except by the fact that his eyes are focused on William’s wet pink lips and his lips are parted. The corner of William’s lips turn up, and he leans in because isn’t anything else he could have done.

Patrick doesn’t hesitate to kiss back, and William almost grins against his lips as he realizes that his cupid-powers have not failed on him yet. Because Patrick is bi and there isn’t anyone to tell him otherwise.

But William isn’t complaining.

And, maybe, _just_ maybe, William forgets who Gabriel Saporta is.

 

 

 

“But you didn’t have to fucking _shoot_ him soda, Pete!” Joe tries to reason. Pete pouts and huffs, turns away and crosses his arms.

“He _deserved_ it, Joe.” Pete retorts back, and he blasphemes at how Joe doesn’t seem to understand him and why he did it to any God there is that is listening to him (if the Almighty even has _time_ for an emo freak like Pete, that is).

“What? Just because he’s helping and becoming a friend Patrick needs in his life? Or because he’s within a foot radius of your ultimate crush?”

Pete doesn’t question how Joe knew, of course, because when it comes to Joe, he notices everything (except when he’s stoned, because then Joe is the most mellow guy around). But, yet, after Pete told Joe about kissing him ‘accidentally’ Joe probably just presumed something as obvious as that.

“Yes.”

Joe sighs in the same way he always does when he expects something to happen and it does. “You can’t lose what you never had, Pete.”

Pete hates how Joe’s right. He hates how he never had the guts to ask Patrick out, and so just _kissed_ him. He hates himself for wanting Patrick only for sex at first. He hates himself for starting to like someone who is out of his reach, because Patrick’s a stable, blonde-haired charming boy, and Pete’s an emotional freak who can’t even think about pills without wanting to cry. He hates himself for freaking Patrick out. He hates himself. Period.

“Do you think Patrick hates me, Joe?” Pete whispers, and sounds so small and vulnerable that Joe can’t help but just sigh and shake his head. He wraps an arm around Pete’s shoulders as Pete stares at his shoes and squeezes. It’s after school and they’re standing in the parking lot as everyone else leaves, but they don’t care because in this moment they have nothing else better to do because Joe knows he’s always been around to him Pete the comfort he usually seeks.

“Nah. Maybe you just caught him off guard but he doesn’t hate you, Pete. I doubt he ever did.”

But then Joe sees Patrick exit the school with red cheeks of affection and embarrassment and sees Patrick laugh carefree of the problems of the world, his backpack in one hand, because the other’s occupied with William’s hand in his own. And seeing Patrick turn his head to face William with big eyes, head still ducked downwards, Joe doubts his words for once in his lifetime.

 

 

The next morning Pete doesn’t want to go to school. He doesn’t want to see Patrick walk past and glare at him, or worse, _pay no attention_ tohim. There’s one thing Pete has never been able to stand, and that is ignorance thrown his way. Maybe it has to do with the fact that Pete had grown up in a world where he was always someone’s favorite person, or maybe his anxiety is talking for him.

There’s another reason Pete doesn’t want to get up. His alarm clock isn’t the reason he had to stand the moonlight shining through his curtains, or the dirty clothes thrown around his room which could magically turn into monsters any moment.

No.

The reason Pete Wentz is sweating while clutching his bed covers against his bare chest, and there’s tears running down his flushed scared face at three in the morning is because he’s having another anxiety attack.

It’s been a long while since Pete has had one of these, and Pete had been stupid enough to think that they were never coming back. He had been wrong. Just like always.

He clumsily reaches towards his bedside table in look for his cell phone and frantically pats the wood, knocking off his Ativan. He has a feeling it isn’t going to help like it usually does right now. Then, as he passes the table towards air, he flops down and hits the carpeted floor with a loud thump.

He’s sobbing now, and he’s desperate. He needs someone, _anyone,_ but no one’s near to hear his cries. Not even the people who live with him because they don’t care. Pete wonders briefly if they ever did.

The bed covers collapse with him, falling around him in a tangled mess and he screams in frustration as he tries to kick them off himself, but they stick harder with his sweat. He thinks everyone and everything is out to get him.

He crawls towards his desk and there he grabs the foot of it, pushes it half of the heavy table falls on the lower half of his body. Pete screams in pain as it digs into his stomach, he thinks his bones are broken. But, finally, a sliver object falls next to his head, and Pete’s shaking fingers crave to touch the cold plastic.

The bright light of the device makes him squint at the darkness and he can barely see with tears blurring his sight but he pushes it all away. He sighs in relief, the only good thing happening since he woke up, as he reaches his contacts list without moving his body. Warm liquid seems to wet his shirt and Pete tries to control his breathing, hoping it’ll stop it from hurting. It doesn’t.

Pete scrolls down the list, and he reaches ‘ _Pat’_ , his finger hovers the call button. Because he yearns to touch Patrick’s soft pale skin. He yearns to have Patrick calm him down and hug him. He yearns Patrick’s words of support. He yearns just Patrick as a whole.

_No. There is no reason for Patrick to care. Pity is the only reason he ever talked to you. Death is what he awaits of you._

Pete lets out a last sob and tries to mask it. He doesn’t know why. No one’s willing to hear him cry. Pete scrolls back up the list and ignores Patrick and Joe’s name on the way. He presses call.

 _“Hello?”_ A grumpy and sleep voice answers in a non-welcoming way, _“Who the fuck calling this hour? Y’have **any** idea how much work an’ school I h’d yesterday?”_

He isn’t making any sense and he doesn’t know it’s Pete.

Pete cries harder into the phone and clutches it to his ear, _“Andy,”_ Pete bawls, eyes still making it impossible to see exactly how early it is, and hoping God will just stop laughing at him and make this all finish, “ _Please._ ”

There’s silence. Andy’s heavy breathing is the only thing Pete could hear to know he’s still there.

_“I’m on my way.”_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William never meant to feel more for Patrick, and Gabe’s growing out of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so fucking sorry. This chapter's short, and extremely shitty (writer's block) and I finished it about a week ago but didn't find it in myself to post it. Forgive me.

When Andy arrives, it’s through Pete’s tree house. It’s been there ever since they could remember, which means it has always been Andy’s secret to entering directly to the second floor.

When he finally makes it to the top, he finds the window closed but unlocked, and he proceeds to balance one foot on the windowsill of the tree house while the other rests on the wall of the house, while pushing the glass to have access inside. The first thing he sees is Pete curled up on the floor bathed in his own blood. He freezes.

Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised. Well, honestly, he _surely_ shouldn’t be surprised at all. He’s had to deal with these types of emotional unbalanced situations from Pete’s part ever since he’s ever known the black-haired teenager. Andy fairly remembers the first time he received a call from Pete. It was the very same day they met and swapped cell phone numbers, so Andy was first confused to getting a call from him so soon.

He remembers 14 year old Pete’s desperate cries on the other side, much like the one he received just a couple minutes ago, and he remembers immediately going to Pete’s house and climbing up the identical tree to see what went wrong in just a couple hours.

Pete had opened the window and his small form looked restless, as well as his red face stained with dry tears. Andy doesn’t like the flashback of the day the two curled into Pete’s blankets, and they sat side by side. The night Pete admitted to Andy that he had problems, and the day Andy promised to always be there for him when he needed it.

It was that promise that made Andy keep coming (and the dedication towards his friend, whom he cares about a whole lot) and it was that promise that kept Pete somewhat stable on a daily basis.

“Fuck,” Andy mutters under his breath, and he slowly nears Pete without making any noise and takes the table off Pete’s body. He notices it somehow tore Pete’s skin considering he doesn’t sleep with a shirt on, and it has literally made the wood dig into his skin. Pete is passed out, the phone loosely under his fingers and onto the sweaty palm of his hand, and Andy gently tugs the sticky blankets off his feet in order to get him some air.

“Andy.” Pete mutters, and it takes too much energy to get him to open his eyes. He still entirely sees black when he opens them though (because he eventually does) until his eyes set to the ambiance of the dark room by dilating. Through the light of the stale moon he sees the stony expression on his friend’s face, who is staring at his bare stomach and patting his tanned skin with a wet cloth that somewhat looks like the one Pete has in his bathroom.

Pete finally looks down and takes his time finding the vigor in himself to prop his elbows up on the floor to look down to himself. Seeing the dry blood on his stomach, completely covering the skin (and the thought making the ache dreadfully come back immediately), he grins.

“What? Beat me up in my sleep, Hurley?” He says, and laughs, as if it’s the best joke he’s ever said in the whole time of his existence. Andy, though, obviously doesn’t find it funny. Pete’s smile fades once he sees the seriousness Andy sees in the situation.

“You went the whole way this time,” He says, his eyes never taking themselves off Pete’s injured abdomen and his expression never failing to seem concerned (with a tinge of annoyance), “Not once before have you ever gotten this hurt.”

Pete shrugs and tries to get up, but Andy’s hand urges him back down. “Not really, if you count that time I was so angry I started punching uncovered razors into the wall and ended up getting a couple stuck into my skin. Don’t know if you remember, but more a bit of blood came out when you tugged them out.”

He says this nonchalantly, as if it’s completely normal and a regular occurrence. Which can be, for _him,_ but it doesn’t have to be that way. Andy doesn’t like the idea of Pete seeing this as normal. He wants Pete to be better, and he can’t help Pete with that if he just starts seeing it as ordinary and just… gives up.

“Pete,” Andy says between his bared teeth, “You can’t just keep _ignoring_ the fact that you go through this! This isn’t normal, and it shouldn’t be! You even for _you._ ”

Pete clenches his jaw and forces himself up, and tugs himself away from Andy to lean on his bed. Andy follows him and stops cleaning him in favor of glaring at Pete through the dark.

“So what, Hurley? You going to go all ‘physiatrist’ on me as well? Say I’m crazy just like everyone else who knows this about me? Are you going to call the hospital and demand I get some medical attention? THE PILLS ARE OF NO FUCKING USE, ANDREW, AND I REFUSE TO BE SEEN AS JUST ANOTHER ‘PROBLEM’!” Pete doesn’t mean to shout, but when the thought of losing his closest friend crosses his mind, he has no other choice. Andy furiously shakes his head.

“Fucking Peter, think straight!” He demands.

“You think I’m not trying?!”

“Just try to listen and reason with what I say for once! You know I wouldn’t do that! I’m just saying you can’t just ignore this and always pretend this never happened by the morning and start seeing this as normal! That’s not correct!” Andy yells. Pete bares his teeth and gets up, wincing only once as he stretches his stomach. Andy gets up with him, the towel tight under his fist.

“Normal? What’s fucking normal these days?”

“Certainly not that.”

“There are more types of people than the classic ones you think you see in the streets.”

“I don’t believe _that_ should be classified as one of the ‘normal’s, Wentz. You’re starting to form your own definition of it.”

“Well then, Hurley,” Pete walks over to Andy and is soon so close that their noses barely touch, his eyes furiously staring into Andy’s who stares back with the same anger behind his glasses, “I like the new normal.”

 

 

When William gets out of class to lunch the first thing he notices is the fact that the halls are all vacant. It shouldn’t be a huge surprise, considering it _is_ lunch and the whole point of it is _eating_ but it’s never been this _quiet._ Being who he is, he shrugs and ignores it, because he’s on his way to meet Patrick in order to do annoying shit like buy lunch together, hold hands and everything like that relationship crap (except the part where William doesn’t find this annoying at all and just doesn’t want to admit the fact that he never got to do this with Gabe because of the other’s jock’s fear of being seen with him makes him anxious to actually want to _act_ like a real boyfriend), until William hears cheering.

 _“Fucking fag.”_ A voice says, and laughs, short and cruel. William tenses as he passes the opening to another hallway and another row of lockers, just listening.

_“Just fucking punch him, dude. Seriously, what are you waiting for?”_

_“Fuck off. I know what I’m doing.”_ Someone snaps back, and William’s eyes widen. There is no other voice he knows better than that one, and William’s legs immediately snap in order to go in the direction of the voices. It isn’t hard to spot the group of people circling something, considering it’s only a few feet along the white tiles.

William elbows his way through and ignores the glares thrown his way. When he sees Patrick pressed up against the lockers and seeming scared shitless, with Gabe pressed up against him baring his teeth furiously. When Gabe lands his first punch on Patrick stomach and Patrick coughs and bends down in pain, with everyone’s cheers echoing in his ears, William’s had _enough._

It’s obvious Patrick has too had enough judging by his groans of pain.

William, and seeing his boyfriend in pain and too angry to act clearly, steps up and shoves Gabe back, who blinks and stumbles back at the sudden impact. He looks up from Patrick’s figure on the floor and seeing William, his arms immediately ball into fists. He hisses and steps forward. Everyone becomes dreadfully silent at seeing William Beckett actually _ask_ for a fight towards Gabriel.

Lanky, gangly Beckett is doing what no one (but Pete, Jon and Joe, of course) would dare do, and that is going against Gabe’s orders.

“You want the same treatment, _fag?_ ” Gabe snaps at him, and steps closer to have his nose barely touching William’s, in a lower voice he adds, “You want the same treatment, Bill? You know all you have to do is ask.”

William tenses and bites his lower lip.

“I dare you.” He hisses. Gabe clenches his jaw and he backs away to turn to his friends and smirks at them.

“Go ahead,” He tells them, “Have your fun.”

William’s eyes widen as he sees the three close in on him and watches Gabe’s retreating form. He splutters as he receives the first punch on his ribs, and there’s gasps around him from the audience but no one ever comes to help him. The closest he’s ever had to a friend here was Gabe, who is now turning his back to him and enjoying his pain.

“Fucking asshole!” William barely manages to scream out as he doubles over and ends up in pain beside Patrick, who is trying to breathe properly and ignore the ache all around his body, “Too fucking scared to do this yourself!”

He doesn’t think Gabe hears though, as his friends continue kicking him and grabbing his head only to slam it against the floor brutally, but then they stop and step away, and through the blurriness of his eyes William can make out the figure of Gabe’s body and easily distinguishes it from anyone else’s.

“What’d you say, _fag?_ ” Gabe snaps and leans in close to inspect William’s bloody face. William forces himself not to pass out by his blood loss and closes his eyes, breathing out slowly and trying his best to stay awake as he sees everything in a dizzy bliss. Though his eyelids are closed he knows Gabe is still leaned close.

Everyone has left to their next class as to not get in trouble. Nate, one of Gabe’s friends, is the only person remaining of Gabe’s friends.

“You should change your speech. It’s getting old, Gabe,” William mumbles, “Fucking kick me, kill me even. But it isn’t fair that you do this to Patrick.”

William forces his eyelids to open slightly and he barely sees Gabe’s eyes turn much livid than before, and Gabe turns over to Nate to nod once.

“You’re not the one to ask for this, Beckett.” He snarls once he faces William again, and forces William’s head to face Patrick. Nate does the same to the younger blonde boy, and William just stares at Patrick as the other’s wide eyes scan William’s face showered in his own blood and he opens his mouth, as to say his name and beg William to be alright. Patrick was just about to do this, until a hand cups his hair from behind and his head is slammed against the tiles once more. That’s all he sees.

 

 

_“…concussion.”_

_“Well what the fuck happened! You still haven’t told me, asshole!”_

_“There is no reason to use foul language, sir. I will ask you to calm down as I clarify that I am not aware of what has happened to Mr. Stump. We were told he had managed to slip on some rather large stairs but we doubt such accident has as much damage as this.”_

_“Damn right! Are you fucking kidding me! I have **every fucking right** to lose control! He could have died!”_

_“Sir--”_

_“And if he didn’t fall off the stairs what happened? You’re not helping! You got a degree on medicine? Well, that’s awesome! Really great! Now may I remind you, **sir** that you’re supposed to use it? Fucking shitheads! All of you! I might as well just--”_

Patrick groans and opens his eyes before trying to cup his head, which seems to be held back. He glances wearily down and notices an IV in his hand, and he groans once more. He tries to see at first, but it’s still all a haze of unfocused beings. It’s extremely frustrating and he sighs and lets his head fall to the not so comfortable pillow once again.

_“You could at least fucking--”_

_“Sir, I believe the loud noise you are making is making our patient uncomfortable.”_

_“What the fuck do I care about one of your stupid motherfucking patients when--”_

Patrick manages to move his head and clear his head and he’s not sure whether he’s delighted to see a mass of disheveled hair towering over him more than two meters away. Then the doctor seems to notice that Patrick is indeed in pain and walks over to him, leaving Pete stood alone. Then Pete turns around and his eyes widen as he sees Patrick’s green eyes staring up at him. Soon enough the doctor is being pushed aside and Pete’s wild eyes are at his level, with his cold hands holding carefully each side of his face.

“Fuck, Patrick,” He whispers, his eyes searching into each feature of his face, “You scared the shit out of me.”

With all the strength he could muster he pulls his head backwards away from Pete’s reach and he glares at Pete, ignoring the headache the simple action emits in its wake.

“Why the hell didn’t you go to school today?” He demands, and Pete blinks. Patrick doesn’t mean to seem as if he’s insisting on Pete always saving the day for him at school from people like Gabe Saporta. He means to simply state that it isn’t fair that Pete doesn’t go to school acting like _he’s_ the one who’s pissed at the other one.

“I mean,” Pete starts somewhat nervously as if he’s afraid of Patrick’s reaction to his next words, “I didn’t want to leave since I wouldn’t know if you were alright and awake so I waited outside and--”

Pete cuts himself off, as if not sure what to say next. He stares at Patrick’s, waiting for the worse for the blonde’s next words. The, as Patrick’s eyes widen, he knows the other has come to realization. Pete thinks he was talking about today, when Patrick meant the day he was assaulted.

“I’ve been here _a whole night?!_ ” Patrick exclaims, only to regret it as his head pounds. He holds back a groan, but either way Pete seems to notice he’s in great pain though seems afraid to make a move to comfort him. Patrick is delighted at that, and he wonders exactly _how much_ he knows on what happened that day before lunch.

“Yeah…” Pete says, staring at the ground, and the doctor has left them long ago to set some files or probably check on some other patients with much more important health problems, “They put you to sleep for a while with a drug or something like that.”

Patrick opens his mouth to protest but once seeing this Pete opens his mouth and beats him to it by saying, “I tried to stop them but they wouldn’t listen to me! I _knew_ you wouldn’t like to be drugged and I told your mom, but she said that the stupid doc told her that if they let you wake up your loss of blood could have some consequences and you would be in much more pain awake or some bullshit like that. She didn’t listen.” By the end Pete’s back on his knees beside Patrick’s uncomfortable bed with a thin mattress and his hand are balled into each other on the sheets.

“You talked to my mom?” Patrick croaks, a bit alarmed at the fact that Pete still finds enough ease as to talk to his mother. Pete doesn’t respond, but that’s enough for Patrick to know the obvious answer to his question.

“Well,” Pete adds quietly moments later, and Patrick can’t help but notice how Pete is much more timid than he was the last time Patrick saw him, “I promised her I’d look out for you.”

 

 

“Motherfucker. My head’s pounding like crazy.” Patrick says once he sees his friend’s giant hair enter the room. Joe laughs and he continues chewing on a piece of gum, lazily grabbing a chair on his way to Patrick’s bed and lying to next to the younger boy to sit next to him. He places his elbows on the bed and crosses his arms on it.

“Doc says you’re lucky you’re alive. If someone had not come to your rescue and you would have gotten a punch more you could have seriously died.” He says, and continues chewing his gum seeming to try to seem at ease to not worry Patrick. Not that it worked, of course.

“You mean that if _William_ had not gotten his ass kicked as well I would be dead?” Patrick mutters bitterly, not one bit happy at the pain he has caused someone who has been nothing but sweet to him. William did not deserve this at all. Joe laughs and shrugs.

“Yeah. Guess so. You’re lucky your boyfriend is willing to do that for you, you know.” Joe adds conversationally, casually taking his gum from his teeth and stretching it out with his index finger and thumb. Patrick sighs and nods.

“Yeah.” He says, and doesn’t offer any other words.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, by the way. Or Pete. I was sick and Pete, well,” Joe runs a hand through his hair, “He was, uh, at his place with Andy.”

Patrick narrows his eyes and stares at Joe, who begins to grow uncomfortable under the hard gaze.

“Andy Hurley?” He asks, and never takes his eyes from Joe’s face. Joe nods and throws the gum back into his mouth, even though he’s already sucked the entire flavor out of it and now it just tastes of spit.

“So, how are you feeling?” Joe asks suddenly, and Patrick obviously notices Joe’s attempt at changing the topic of the subject. He doesn’t ask again, though, because he rather ask Pete Wentz himself.

“Better, I guess,” Patrick responds, and unexpectedly comprehension dawns over him. He snaps his head up from staring at his sheets, “How’s William?”

Joe smiles sadly and sighs, knowing that it was sooner or later that he was going to ask. He hesitates and looks down at his hands where his cellphone has magically appeared, “He’s fine. He lost a lot more blood than you but he’s fine. He got someone to donate blood for him so he’ll be fine in a couple days. Don’t worry too much over him.”

Patrick nods and imagining someone catching William and himself fainted on the school tiles while everyone was in class he sighs. Then—

“If everyone was in class and it was no teacher, who called the ambulance if it wasn’t you or Pete?” Patrick whispers, his hands latching into each other and with an expecting expression on his features. Joe laughs and throws his gum into the trash after getting bored with it.

“Turns out that Ross kid managed to save your life again, for the third time, Stump,” He says, much to Patrick’s surprise, “He called Pete first, once he saw you because he didn’t know what to do. Got your cell phone out and dialed. He said he didn’t know who to call and even though you two seemed to not get along Pete was the only person he knew that cared for you, if only a bit from what he saw. According to Walker’s friend, Pete arrived in less than five minutes after the call.”

Patrick blinks. “But he has no car.”

Joe’s grin seems to only get wider, as if enjoying every minute of Patrick’s confusion and Patrick has always known that his older friend is only naturally annoying, but he doesn’t remember him _this_ irritating. But well, Joe can only get more insufferable by the minute.

“Yeah. That’s because he ran.” Joe states, grin and seeming to _want_ to implant an image of Pete running through the streets in his pajamas to get to school in order to find out whether his friend is fine. His ‘friend’ who was mad at him and treated him like shit.

Patrick looks down again at his hands and he glances back up only to see Joe ignoring him in order to play on his phone. He looks back to Ryan helping him out last time and this time, to three guys fighting for him against Gabe and his friends, to William standing up for him against the biggest bully in the state, and to Pete who put his reputation at risk by laying Gabe a few punches on the face and sitting by Patrick’s side, and he thinks _I don’t deserve this._

Sometimes Patrick wonders as to why people even bother with him.

 

 

After earning a stern scowl from his mother, a pat on his back from his father (making him wince slightly at the pain) he’s walking slowly towards the lobby to go back home, but he turns to his parents and stops walking.

“Can I go see my friend before we leave?” He asks quietly. Mrs. Stump blinks and furrows her eyebrows at him. She shakes her head in exasperation and turns to Mr. Stump, who frowns.

“We’ll be at the car.” He says, and Patrick gives him a quick smile before quickly making his way towards where he thought he heard a doctor standing, in front of a door while talking in medical terms Patrick didn’t understand about, William’s name coming out.

At the entrance of the doorway, Patrick pauses at hearing another voice talking inside, as he would rather not run into a doctor which would probably kick him out before Patrick could see William. Right now Patrick is very desperate to see William. As he bites on his lower lip until it turns numb, Patrick realizes that he misses William.

_“I am so, so sorry, Bill. Please forgive me. Please, please, please. I won’t be able to live like this. I love you, please wake up. Goddamn, William, don’t scare me.”_

Patrick furrows his eyebrows and uneasily stares at the hallways as nurses hurry past without sparing him any more than a glance. Of course this could not be any of William’s parents.

 _“My dad’s dead,”_ Patrick remembers William shrugging as he told him this, as if it didn’t matter, _“And my mom’s a workaholic. As addicted to her work as she is with alcohol.”_

He peers through, grateful that the doors are too modern to creak and leans his head inside only to find a mop of dark black hair set beside William’s bed, who is covered in bandages and IVs, bruises and is paler than before. Gabe, though, seems to notice someone else’s presence and snaps his head in the direction of the door, and Patrick is caught frozen. His hand still on the doorknob and his eyes wide.

Gabe’s eyes narrow at him and he lets go of William’s hand to stand up, but he doesn’t move from beside William. Patrick keeps his stance and doesn’t move. Mostly because there is no point. Patrick would have thought before that Gabe isn’t stupid enough to attach in a public place with people constantly passing by, but after Patrick saw him in that _rage_ fit, out of control and livid, he now truly questions Gabe’s sanity.

Gabe glances at Patrick’s hands, arms and legs, and Patrick just _knows_ that Gabe understands the type of damage he caused. Patrick couldn’t possibly run. It hurts to breath, even.

Patrick is too lost at seeing Gabe so vulnerable, though, as he notices Gabe’s loosely clenched fist and his bloodshot eyes, that he never notices that Gabe had talked to him. Patrick looks up as he snaps out of his thoughts and glances at William before snapping them back to the older boy.

“You were crying.” Patrick states. Gabe sneers.

“Big deal, _fag,_ ” He says, and Patrick almost believes that Gabe’s angry, “Whatever. Tell the school Take shots, I _don’t care._ ”

Patrick shakes his head and his lips curl into a scowl, “ _No._ You’re _crying_ when you caused this. You can’t possibly actually care for giving William bruises only when he’s in danger of fucking death!”

Gabe seems to finally get angry at this and he finally leaves William’s side only to shove Patrick against the wall.

 _“Listen,_ Stump,” He says, eyes piercing into Patrick’s own, “ _None_ of this would have happened if _you_ didn’t fuck this up, alright? I did nothing. _You’re_ the one who did it to him!”

“How the fuck is this _my_ fault!”

“If _you_ didn’t start talking and take away _my_ Bill then I never would have had to take you away from him!” He yells, and Patrick freezes.

He opens his mouth to respond, not even knowing what is to come out until a hand on his shoulder stops him. He cranes his head upwards and sees Joe staring boldly at Gabe as he says, “C’mon, Patrick. I’m sure your parents are waiting for you.” His eyes never move away from Gabe. Patrick doesn’t wait for anyone, he just leaves. He truly hopes William is in good hands.

After Gabe watches Patrick leave, he shifts his gaze to Joe. Joe sighs and shakes his head.

“He won’t tell anyone.”

Gabe nods.

 

 

That same night Patrick can’t seem to go to sleep. His side hurts, more than any other ache of his body, and he’s tired of laying on his back. He can’t move and it hurts to breathe. Or it could be called an excuse, in other words. Gabe’s words meant nothing too big at first. Patrick thought he was over thinking things, just a small bit, but after replaying those same words over and over again through his head he realized there’s nothing else Gabe could have been referring to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and I ask you to tell me what you think will happen in the future, Believe it or not, it'd be of great help. Thank you!  
> -Alex


	4. The End.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End? Not likely. A brief description over William and Gabe’s relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there is no amount of apologies I can offer for taking so long, but I’ve been spending my time writing of other fandoms and sketching. Either way, it’s finally here so just read and tell me what you think.  
> The End. I was eager to finish this.  
> I'm thinking about writing a prequel on William and Gabe's relationship. What do you think?  
> Yeah, this chapter sucked and it short. I made this sadder than I ever thought. This was supposed to be a crack!fic....  
> -Alex  
> By the way, opinions on writing a prequel centered around William and Gabe's relationship?

A week later Patrick is back to school. That is, after furiously arguing with his mother over being fine. In the end it was his father who lightly tugged his mother’s arm to their bedroom to calm her down.

When he wakes up he makes sure to have a serene and quiet morning, responding to his mother with short one word answers. Before going to school he receives a text message stating that he will be picked up and taken to school by car, sent by Joe. Patrick sighs, because he honestly is in no mood to deal with such people at that hour in the morning; even less after everything that happened.

If Patrick is allowed to be honest with himself, all he wants to do is see William.

As far as _he_ knows, William won’t be in school for a couple more weeks before he gains his health again. Frankly, Patrick doesn’t know exactly when so much drama appeared into his life. It makes him gag. (Yet, he’s pretty sure it started the moment he met Pete Wentz, really).

“Hey, Patrick.” Joe greets as he moves across his seat to throw Patrick’s door open. Patrick resists rolling his eyes at how Joe now seems to think he is so delicate he can’t do things on his own, since he knows Joe is only trying to help.

When Patrick just climbs in, almost hitting his forehead on the top while doing so (it’s obvious he hasn’t gotten more graceful), and doesn’t respond, Joe continues, “I’d ask how you’re doing but judging by the fading bruises on all your body it’s most likely you’d punch me, if you don’t curl in pain first.”

This time Patrick doesn’t restrain himself from rolling his eyes, makes sure Joe sees while doing so and he shifts so he looks out the windows towards the houses he’s seen far too many times. Anything to stop Joe from talking.

“William’s doing fine, as I’ve heard. I think he’s just skipping school now, the little fucker. Always has been like that, too lazy to do shit. Except fuck, considering he’s as much of a slut as he’s gay.”

“Watch _your **mouth.**_ ”

Joe pauses, his hands tense on the wheel before he remembers that he’s driving and he must stay focused on the road. He glances at Patrick though, who looks angry, glaring at the side of Joe’s face. Just then Patrick seems to snap out of his trance and he blinks a couple times, surprised at how he himself reacted to Joe’s playful teasing.

“Sorry.” Patrick mutters, turns back to the window and resumes to his position against the glass, only this time his shoulders tense.

“No you’re not.”

“Excuse me?” Patrick asks, his expression bewildered. He’s facing Joe again. Joe sighs and turns to the street of the high school they attend, Joe prepared for more rumors. Patrick is not, though, putting in thought that his heart is beating far too fast and he doesn’t want to hear the things everyone has made up about him, William and Gabe. Patrick doesn’t fret on the last name. He sincerely can’t think of it without wanting to spit on his grave.

“Look, Patrick,” Joe says, and shakes his head, “I know that William’s your boyfriend and all, and I understand, of course. Well, if you can count that I’ve never actually dated a guy before. Either way, you know I don’t mind that you’re gay or bisexual or something. I really don’t care, but I think it’s only fair that we both admit that we’ve noticed your defensive guard over William; and as your _friend,_ ” Joe emphasizes on that one word, as if to state that he isn’t trying to be Patrick enemy and he only wants to help, “I’d just thought that it’d be better if you left William alone.”

“Joe-”

Joe cuts him off with a hard glance, says, “ _Because being near William can bring much more problems than you’d think._ ”

Patrick snorts and curls his lips into a bitter smile, shakes his head, “Yeah, I noticed after Gabe beat me up for being near him. Screw it. I’m not stupid. You think I care? He’s the first person to ever try and _get_ to me, and the only person to have succeeded. Fuck, even my own _mother_ doesn’t know half the things William does.”

Joe shakes his head and he parks under the same oak tree, but they both don’t make a move to get out the car, merely undo their seatbelts. He shifts in his seat and faces Patrick while ignoring the glances they get from by-passers.

“Patrick, you’re not getting the whole idea here. Gabe and William weren’t just close,” Joe grimaces and he shuts his eyes, as if trying to stop himself from saying it but at the same time having no reason to do so, “Jesus, Patrick. Gabe and William were _together_. William broke up with him, and Gabe— he came to my place screaming and broke everything in his reach. Gabriel’s not only annoyed that you are dating William, he’s _furious._ ”

Patrick purses his lips and glances at Joe through his bruised face. He sighs and gets out the car, moves quickly and winces at the pain in his legs as he escapes Joe. Ignoring the whispers as he passes through, he makes his way to the bathroom. It’s far too much than he can take. The fact that Gabe and William were dating was obvious when Patrick found Gabe in the other’s hospital room, after what he yelled at Patrick.

And before Patrick ever even talked to William? It was also obvious. It _should_ have been obvious, but everyone is so blind over what is right in front of them. He should have noticed the connection that Saporta and William had. The way that it was marked. William is _Gabe’s._

How, firstly Gabe would do whatever to make William scream at him, punch him and hurt him in every way. Before they were just two people who didn’t like each other to Patrick. Gabe was just a sports jock. William was just the open fag who was also Gabe’s target. Yet, somehow they managed to transform into a duo.

Then, out of fucking nowhere Gabe stopped and ordered everyone to leave Beckett alone, though kept slamming his shoulder against the other’s. William suddenly became interested in going to football practices, and how he changed tables. To standard students they’d find him stupid for choosing to sit closer to the jocks’ tables.

“Do you understand now?”

The sudden voice catches Patrick off guard and he loses his footing on the bathroom tiles, but a hand catches hold of his arm and helps him stand upright. When Patrick turns to see his face, his expression contorts into an angry scowl.

“I asked you a question, and you will answer. Are you going to leave Bill alone or not?”

Patrick doesn’t think he is meant to answer with a _no_ in his response, but he also knows Gabe wouldn’t risk punching him again for many reasons. Weirdly enough, in these motives Patrick is automatically including William.

Everything Gabe does or doesn’t do has to do with William.

 

 

 

Pete doesn’t go to his first class, or his second and third. He just sits under a small tree at the side of the school, out of any teacher’s view. He didn’t know, at first, how much time had passed until he saw many classmates exit the school, sit on the tables in the front garden and begin eating their lunch.

He just sits, thinking. He doesn’t move. He isn’t hungry. He just recalls and sighs, begins wondering when he ever thought killing himself would be a good idea. He decides the only person who stopped him from doing it was Andy. Andy is a good friend. He doesn’t have many of them.

_“Why did you do it?”_

_William’s eyebrows furrow, and he tries to sit upright before collapsing with weak arms, he doesn’t try after, just grimaces at the needle jostled into his vein (which was put there without his fucking permission, he may add. William doesn’t like things being stuck into his skin)._

_“Would you care to elaborate, Peter?”_

_“Why the fuck did you shove yourself into the fight which wasn’t even involving you and save Patrick? Do you even care for him?”_

_William laughs, weak and futile. He almost coughs, but somehow holds it back down. Playing along with a teddy bear he was given from Patrick, one he found beside his bed this morning. He continues smiling._

_“Pete, if that’s all you came here for and ask, then I suggest you try new ways of making friends,” He ignores Pete’s sneer, stating he doesn’t want nor need William as a friend, “And as for your questions, I saved Patrick because I **do** care for him.”_

_William glances up at Pete, then at his legs under the white blanket which is surely entirely purple. He sighs and looks back to the black haired boy, looking away and repositioning himself on the thin mattress._

_William says, “And I value his life more than mine.”_

Pete knows all too well from the gossip around school that Patrick appeared here today, and though Pete hasn’t seen his friend since his visit to the hospital, he makes no move to be in a hurry. He’s done enough to have Patrick repulse the idea of having to talk to him again. He doesn’t need to have to make Patrick hate him even more.

He’ll just sit here, where it’s starting to rain, and enjoy the tranquility of loneliness. Then, just maybe, one day he’ll actually start to like it.

 

 

 

“Hey, Bill.” His tone of voice is quiet, and he has his hands in his pockets, his eyes boring into the hospital tiles. William turns and his eyes set over him. For a long moment he is silent.

“Hello.”

Gabe looks up and his eyes stare over the numerous things attached to his body, even under the blanket. William notices this and frowns. Just as Gabe opens his mouth to say something William interrupts him.

“Jon told me you came to visit when I was still knocked out,” William states, and Gabe nods and starts to form an answer, but William continues, “A bit _odd,_ don’t you think? Having the killer visit the victim’s grave. I’ve never heard of it before. Have you?”

Gabe doesn’t respond, until he finally says, “No.”

Williams nods, smiles and turns his back to Gabe.

“You’re free to stay, but don’t think I’ll be the one doing the talking. If you’re leaving, please make sure Patrick is doing fine. With me not there and Pete seeming to give up on Patrick, there’s no one to look out for him. Not even Ross or Trohman.”

Gabe does stay, skips school, and for the next week he doesn’t leave his side. William doesn’t talk to him again since the last time, since the previous time he had talked to him he had been holding back his anger at him for doing such damage to him and, most importantly, his boyfriend.

 

 

 

For the next few days Pete appears at Patrick doorstep every morning without a word, always already seated on the sidewalk when Patrick steps out of his house to begin walking to school, despite having a car. They always walk to school together, with Patrick's backpack swung on one of Pete's shoulders and his own on the other. The blonde haired boy wonders whether he does it to help, considering Patrick's health is still unstable, or if it's a way of telling him he's there for him without using words.

One day as Patrick stood next to him, watching as Pete stands up so they can go, he decides to ask, "You have a car, why don't you bring it?"

He accidentally asked the wrong question. Pete flinches as the words, not expecting their usually quiet mornings to be cut with words of all days, that particular. He tries to hide it, though, and shrugs.

"Might as well make use of the sun while it's still out this early." He responds, dusting his the back of his pants even though it isn't necessary. and Patrick doesn't believe him at all but he nods either way. When Pete stretches his hand towards him, Patrick doesn't give him his backpack, and Pete doesn't even look surprised as the other boy's hand wraps around his. They walk like this to school, hand in hand, and though for others this action means the beginning of something nice, Pete knows it means a goodbye.

 

 

 

"Happy birthday, Pete."

 

 

 

Three weeks later Patrick is sitting next to Pete against his will and neither of them talk, have no desire to. They haven’t talked to one another in rather a long time. Joe doesn’t try to make his friends be casual with each other again and even rarely talks to Patrick himself, who has tried his best to isolate himself once more, not in need for making friends anymore. At least, not new ones. He has already learned what happens if he does.

They haven’t seen Gabe around. No one has, as rumors state. Some claim he left the school and Patrick is grateful to have been saved from such a menace to society. A killer, but once Joe told him that he’s just staying with William and Patrick knows it’s best if he doesn’t go see William for a long while. His support is not needed as much as William thinks he needs it. No matter how much William believes he misses Patrick's soft voice and words that signify belief, all he misses is a friend. He hasn't got many.

During the time Patrick and Pete are tense, sitting beside one another, they are in the gym, having been called an assembly much like the rest of the school. It is a surprise, and the student body are chattering excitedly over missing their classes just for being seated there. Only a few question about why they are there, considering only a few assemblies are called for every year, while others just are happy to not be doing school work.

Patrick doesn't feel welcome there, on the bleachers, sitting in silence. Then the principal explains that their old classmate, William Eugene Beckett, has _passed on to the next life._ Patrick's sneakers resonate throughout the room as he immediately stands up and leaves, the slam of the gym’s doors echoing through the room full of silent students. They all can’t believe it. They have all known William since kindergarten, someone they never accepted into any of their groups for fear of being labelled as him. The one person they never wanted to see for who he was, dead.

Two days later they are informed Gabriel Saporta has committed suicide. And, yet, Patrick can’t find himself to feel anything at all.


End file.
